


When The Heart Grows Fond

by Hallianna



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: A lot of content warnings for some chapters, Abusive Relationships, Adorable, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, And I give those CWs before they happen, And again fuck Valdo Marx, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon Ships It, Complete, Dogs, Dude's an asshole, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Whump, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia is Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon's Parent, Good Parent Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Happily Ever After, Hurt/Comfort, I promise fluff and HEA, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Death in Childbirth, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Jaskier has a dog!, Jaskier | Dandelion Has Feelings, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, Light Dom/sub, Lutz is also the bestest best friend, M/M, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Matchmaker Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Mind the Tags, Multi, OC Lutz might be my fav OC of all time, Panic Attacks, Past Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Past Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Past Jaskier | Dandelion/Valdo Marx, Past Relationship(s), Polyamory, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Praise Kink, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Soldiers, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Updated relationships to add in our threesome, Valdo Marx Being an Asshole, Wedding Fluff, Young Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-15 08:21:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 75,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29311026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hallianna/pseuds/Hallianna
Summary: The house next door to Jaskier’s hadn’t sold in almost two years, but now a gorgeous man and his adorable daughter have just moved in. Jaskier’s been alone a long time after a terrible relationship that nearly ruined him, but the handsome new neighbor is making things better. As Geralt and Jaskier get to know one another, sparks fly, but love is never without complications.A fluffy, slow burn modern AU where Geralt and Ciri move in next door to Jaskier and these two adorable idiot men slowly fall in love.And Jaskier has a dog and Geralt works on motorcycles and everything is pretty tooth-rottingly sweet and it all ends happily for everyone. There's also a threesome between Eskel, Lambert, and Jaskier's best friend, an OC (who commenters seem to genuinely love!). Those chapters are optional though they be spicy spicy.
Relationships: Eskel (The Witcher)/Original Male Character(s), Eskel/Lambert (The Witcher), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Lambert/Eskel/Original Male Character, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 316
Kudos: 445





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Delivery](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6603643) by [SoManyJacks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoManyJacks/pseuds/SoManyJacks). 



> All CWs are put in the notes before the chapter in which they occur, so please mind those. Explicit rating is for mostly the second half of the story.
> 
> Pinterest board for the fic (mostly art references/face claims) [HERE](https://pin.it/60lwZZL)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now with art by me!
> 
> [Spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/50lv1q9k2xFBH8DcuCleUW?si=RKkTmHYlRKqGZHyHsEnrXw)

Jaskier heard the moving truck before he saw it. A big, rumbling noise rounded the corner but the large maple tree planted there blocked his view. Curious, he walked down the length of his little porch, peering around the support pillar and nearly spilling his coffee. 

He righted his cup just as the truck - dented, rusted, its tailpipe smoking like an old man with a cigar - came into view.

And pulled into the driveway next door.

Jaskier tried not to gape. That house had been for sale _forever_. It was honestly hard to figure out why. A cute little Cape Cod with white siding, black trim, and overgrown but easily tamed garden beds for flowers and vegetables in the fenced-in backyard. Jaskier had looked at it himself before touring the house next door. The Cape Cod just needed too much work, more than he could afford. And not being handy in that way made the decision even easier. If a pipe burst, if the siding fell off, if the toilet stopped working….he was fucked.

Even with Zoltan’s “friend discount” for his handyman services, Jaskier always dreaded the sound of a faucet dripping or a pipe rattling. _Own your own home, they said. It’s a joy, they said. No one told me so many things could break down. What the hell is a soffit, anyways? Thank the gods for the internet._

Keeping an eye on the sputtering moving truck now idling in the drive next to his, Jaskier pulled out his phone and began to look up soffit (which he then looked up _at_ to confirm that he had them - and he did), but his investigative inquiries were cut off as the passenger door to the truck was flung open and its occupant stepped out.

Big, black biker boots, tight black jeans, and a black long sleeve t-shirt molded to an impossibly broad chest. The contrast of pure white hair, loosely held back in a bun, made Jaskier blink. But when the man turned to gaze at the Cape Cod, he gaped. 

His knees may have even gone a little weak. That was clearly one of the most beautiful men he’d ever seen, with a proud, strong jawline, roguish scar through one white eyebrow, and -

_Fuck me running. Those eyes._

Those were contacts, right? They had to be. He’d at first glance thought them a warm brown but as the sun bore down, the man’s eyes were backlit with a fire that knocked something loose in Jaskier’s chest.

_Please be my next door neighbor. Dear god please. Though this could be bad. I’m not exactly the picture of self-restraint._

He was now leaning so heavily against the porch railing that he felt his balance start to give, so Jaskier righted himself with a little shake. His watch beeped and he swore softly. There was another department meeting in ten minutes and he should have been preparing, not standing out here gawping at the newest resident to White Orchard.

Jaskier ducked back inside, but not without one last look at the man eyeing the Cape Cod, hands on hips and gaze assessing. Their eyes met and it felt like a punch to the gut, all the air gone from his lungs. Feeling brave, Jaskier raised a hand in greeting, the smile on his face feeling dopey. “Hello there!”

_Christ, seriously Jaskier? Hello there?! Why not just say, “Howdy do new neighbor! I’m an idiot who has been staring at you for the last two minutes.”_

Face burning, he slipped inside and dashed upstairs to his office, but mentally still fixated on the man next door.  
  


* * *

From inside the truck’s cabin, Lambert cackled. “Lookee there. New in town for two minutes and already the White Wolf has an admirer.” He stacked his forearms on top of the steering wheel and stared out the cracked windshield. “Place has good bones, Geralt. Except for that shitty roof. Fuck, I can hook you up with a guy who used to work the construction yard with me.”

“Appreciate it,” Geralt said, letting his eyes drift back to the house. And away from the neighbor, who had disappeared inside after giving them a sunny greeting. Figures the house next to his fresh start would be owned by an appealingly lithe, round-jawed man with chestnut hair just a tad too long and blue eyes that looked grey in the shadows. 

When Geralt had first spotted the half-torn FOR SALE sign on the house, he’d immediately pulled over. It did have good bones, like Lambert had said. But even more appealing was the double garage and large backyard and storage shed - things to build on, something to give him the space for his work. And the zoning here was next to none, so he could easily add another outbuilding for the home gym he always wanted. It needed work but that’s what knowing people got you - a discount and solid work you could trust. Plus he could actually hire his friends now, instead of relying on shady contractors. Lambert would fix the roof, Eskel would handle the woodwork and floors. Vesemir the garden. And anything else he had the know-how to handle.

_One thing at a time. Get your shit unpacked and enjoy it. You’ve got time to figure everything else out. Fresh start. No more living in a shitty apartment and renting a garage. No more bouncing from place to place, working for other people._

The sound of a Hemi engine made him look back. The sun hit the chrome rims and tailpipe on the fire engine red truck. The damn thing barely fit in the drive behind the box truck but Eskel wasn’t going to leave his ass end sticking out or park on the street. The truck shut off and Eskel hopped out, his heavy work boots hitting the gravel drive with a crunch and a puff of dust. Vesemir got out of the passenger side, immediately grumbling at the high drop from the jacked-up truck.

“Where do you want us to start, Geralt?” Eskel rubbed his hands together and headed for the gate on the box truck.

“Big stuff first. Couch, beds.” Geralt turned to Vesemir, shading his eyes as the sun hit them. “Can you check out the garden? It’s overgrown but I’m worried the soil’s stripped.”

Vesemir nodded and clapped a hand on Geralt’s shoulder. “Can do. This is good for you. You know that.”

Geralt sighed. Yeah, he knew. It was unknown and that was always uncomfortable. But a place of his own meant so much more than just space to work and spread out. Ciri would have her own bedroom; a proper one. Kid deserved it. She was getting older and that little cramped apartment wasn’t cutting it anymore. She was such a good kid and it made Geralt stupid happy to be able to give her something like this.

He’d been able to keep the house’s appearance a surprise so when he picked her up from school today, he’d get to show it off. Give her the tour. Let her immediately start picking out paint colors and curtains and….

He grinned. Yeah, this was going to be good. He rolled his shoulders, pushed his sleeves up, and got to work.

* * *

“No, Devon, the lighting is fine. I promise.” Jaskier fought the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “And if something happens and all the lights go out, we’ll fill the space with candles.”

As soon as Devon’s face took on a panicked edge, Jaskier knew he’d said the wrong thing. _Fuck. I just freaked him out_ . “Oh no that won’t do!” Devon’s big green eyes went wide. “The space _must_ be lit with neon! It’s why I chose the evening slot for my show! Jaskier, I can’t have my performance - an avant garde artistic dance! - lit by _candles_.”

“Devon. Devon. Breathe.” He watched the artist, who was already rather flaky, take in big, gulping breaths, his lip quivering. “It was a joke. I’m very sorry I made you nervous but we’ll be fine. The gallery has a generator and your dance is five minutes long. We’ll be fine.”

It took him another ten minutes to calm the man down but by the time Devon left the video conference, Jaskier was sure he’d be all right. Mostly. Hopefully.

 _You were the one who wanted to build an arts nonprofit. You know what kind of personalities the creative types have_. Which was rich thinking, considering Jaskier used to be one such creative type. Still was, technically, though he hadn’t written so much as an original verse in months and only sang to his dog.

He stretched and stood, turning a slow circle. The bookshelves needed culling; it was absurd how many books he’d bought recently when a used bookstore went into the old coffee shop downtown. But they were the kind of books he loved - well thumbed, their spines cracked, a few pages yellow from being in the sun too long or boxed up in a basement. Those books had character, evidence that they’d been treasured and read. 

His succulents were looking good today, getting a bit of late autumn sun and having just been fertilized earlier in the week. The one had been a little sad of late and so he’d moved it to a brighter spot. Puttering about in his office always made him feel better. Something about mundane actions was soothing, grounding.

And then he looked out the window. The one that faced the neighbor’s backyard.

The white-haired man stood in the grass before a rotting cedar garden bed, his hands on his hips. Blast that bright sunlight - it hit him at just the right angle and lit his hair up like a halo. It also gave Jaskier a very good idea how thin his shirt was. He could see _outlines_. Broad, hard planes of perfectly sculpted muscle. And he definitely wasn’t going to acknowledge the pinpoint dots of the man’s nipples pressing against the shirt.

 _Fuck_.

Jaskier bit his lip but couldn’t tear himself away. He wanted to stare, to linger. So he watched as the new neighbor spoke to another man, this one with long hair and a beard shot through with grey. They seemed to know each other well, from the familiar way the older man put his hand on the other’s shoulder and smiled as he pointed at the garden beds. The white-haired man was nodding and listening intently, then stooped down and dug his fingers into the soil. 

Their eyes connected through the glass of Jaskier’s window.

Jaskier hurled himself away from his spying spot, heart thumping a little too hard in his chest. _Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. That’s twice now he’s caught me staring. Please think I’m just nosy and not hard up for a man’s attention. Because I am. Really hard up._

Jaskier didn’t want to think about how long it had been since his last date. He’d really tried to get back out there after his last relationship blew up, but his heart had hurt too much and even the allure of a one night stand wasn’t enough. When he was younger, all it took was a smoldering gaze and a sly smile and he was head over heels.

But he was older, and hopefully wiser. Anonymous sex in a bathroom or in the backseat of a car wasn’t enough. He craved companionship, steady and true and able to withstand turbulent waters. The years with Valdo had been good, in the beginning. So good Jaskier had thought _this is the one_. But the petty arguments turned into days of silence. Their bed grew colder. The last straw was Valdo suggesting the only way to fix it was to open their relationship up. Only for him. 

He wanted his cake and wanted to come home to good little Jaskier, who just couldn’t live without him. Jaskier would have done anything for that man and yet, it was never enough. 

He balled his fists up on his thighs, his eyes snapping shut. _Goddammit Valdo. You don’t get my time anymore. You don’t get that right._ Glancing at the clock, Jaskier realized his meetings were done for the day. He needed to get out of the house, get out of his head. And he needed some things for dinner. The farmer’s market was open for a few more hours, and going there always set his mind at ease. The adorable stalls, the smell of baked goods and ripe produce, the chatter. 

He headed downstairs, grabbed his market bags and the leash, and whistled. “Come on, girl!”

The clomping, heavy footfalls of his dog came from her little room in the front of the house, just behind the stairs. It had once been a sitting room but Jaskier had no need for such a space, so he let the dog claim it. She stayed there a lot on sunny days, laying on her back, snoring and sleeping and generally being adorable.

The dog picked up speed, nails clattering on the honey-colored wood planks, and barreled into Jaskier with a soft bark. No matter how many times Dandelion crashed into him, it always took him to his knees or made him thump back on his ass. Such was his life, being owned by a massive Great Dane who thought his face deserved to be slobbered on.

Dandelion licked his cheek and he felt drool land on his jeans. “Dandi, you brute,” he teased, laughing. “Let’s go to the market, okay?”

The dog woofed again and bolted for the front door, staring at him with giant chocolate eyes. His heart melted. Dandelion had been his “get out of this shitty relationship” gift to himself and at only two years old, she still had a lot of puppy in her. And according to the vet, would probably pack on another few dozen pounds and a couple of inches. _I wonder if the neighbor likes dogs. He looks like a dog person, big, tough guy like that._

And since the market was in town square, he had to walk right by the Cape Cod. 

Once he got Dandelion leashed and put her flannel vest on, they headed out the door and down the sidewalk. There were four men now in the other driveway, counting the white haired neighbor. Two of them - one with shaggy dark hair and a gnarly scar on his jawline and the other with short, slicked back hair and a rather attractive smirk - were hefting a desk between them while the others moved boxes and totes around. 

Jaskier took in a deep breath and paused just before the neighbor’s drive. “Hello again! I’m so sorry I didn’t get to greet you properly this morning.” Dandelion woofed gently but didn’t tug on her lead. His giant dog bum-rushing the new neighbor would not have been a good look.

They’d worked together since she was a puppy to learn leash control and basic commands and he was so proud of her for behaving. She _loved_ people, especially kids, and if the neighbor had one, Dandelion might leave him forever.

The white haired man was surprisingly only taller by an inch or so, but he was built like a god. He set the box he’d been carrying down slowly and came over, his eyes flicking to Dandelion sitting at attention at Jaskier’s feet. “Beautiful dog,” he murmured, his voice low. “She friendly?”

Jaskier silently breathed a sigh of relief. He grinned. “Too friendly. The blizzard we had last year? She got out and took the Bradley’s kid for a tour of the neighborhood by grabbing onto his toboggan strap and pulling him around. We found the kid building a snowman while Dandi here watched.”

The other man snorted and that’s when Jaskier realized all the others had stopped to watch their interaction. But he drew his attention back to the neighbor and, to his surprise and delight, watched him put out a hand, palm down, for Dandelion to sniff. The sniff turned into a rather forward lick between his fingers, making them both laugh. “Dandi?” 

Dandelion cocked her head, listening intently and Jaskier’s heart melted. The dog immediately was watching the stranger and he knew it was because of that voice. Deep and rumbling, stones clattering down from a mountain or thunder over the plains. His musician’s heart marveled at its tone. “Uh, well, Dandelion but that’s hard to yell when she takes off at full speed.” He put his hand out in greeting. “I’m Julian. But you can call me Jaskier.”

The hand that gripped his was warm and callused, with fingertips rough from physical work. Jaskier wondered what he did for a living, with such broad, manly hands. But the touch was gentle, like the other man was afraid to squeeze too hard. “Geralt.”

“Welcome to White Orchard, Geralt.” His gaze flicked back to the other men. “Family?”

“My brothers.” The shaggy haired man barked out a laugh. Geralt rolled his eyes. “Friends, but they’re family. Eskel and Lambert are the ones with the desk.”

The older man stepped forward, a sparkle in his eyes that immediately told Jaskier this was the patriarch figure of their little group. “Vesemir,” he said, shaking Jaskier’s hand and then putting his hand down for Dandelion to sniff. “Good girl. She’s a beauty.”

Dandelion huffed softly. “Don’t let it go to your head, darling,” Jaskier warned, scratching between her ears. “She’s thrilled, trust me. The only way you could immediately win her over more is if you have a kid.”

Geralt froze, then broke into a sheepish smile. “Yeah, I do. When she finds out you have a dog, I’ll never hear the end of getting her one of her own.”

Jaskier kept smiling. Oh he liked this man. Big and tough, sure, but as soon as he talked about his daughter, the man’s face softened, those deep amber eyes crinkling at the corners. Being kind to animals and kids was always a good sign. “Well, if you need names of the rescues in the area, I can hook you up. I got her from the big dog rescue in town. Poor thing was in a hoarding situation. I volunteer there and saw her and….that was it.” Jaskier heart twisted a little at the memory: Dandelion, tiny and half bald from mites and fleas, but she saw him and jumped up, dashing to the edge of playpen where the puppies were socialized. She’d been playing with a weed, tugging at it playfully, and Jaskier’s heart broke open as she licked his fingers. 

He’d spotted the yellow smear on her nose from the dandelion’s pollen and that was it. Dandelion she was, and she came home with him a few weeks later. Having a dog in the house he’d bought for him and Valdo meant the space wasn’t so empty, and his heart had something to focus all that love on. 

“What’s your daughter’s name?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“Ciri. She’s nine. Smart as hell, smarter than me.” Geralt looked down. “It’s just me and her, so you don’t have to worry about rowdy parties or anything. Might be some noise, though. I’ll be working out of my garage until I can get a shop set up in town.”

“Shop?”

“Yeah, I’m a mechanic. Mostly motorcycles but I’ve had people bring me their lawnmowers, scooters, dune buggies - basically anything outside of a motor vehicle. I promise there won’t be biker parties in your front yard.”

Eskel and Lambert came back out of the house, hands now empty. “You gonna gab all day with the cute neighbor or what?” Lambert teased, giving Jaskier an appreciative look. Then he flinched and Jaskier saw Eskel snicker as he moved out from behind the other man. “What the fuck, man? You know my sides are sensitive!”

Vesemir threw back his greying head and let out a belly laugh. The sound was joyful and bold, echoing around them. Jaskier couldn’t keep the smile off his face. “Now the brothers thing makes sense,” he said to Geralt and Vesemir, getting a wink from the older man. “And don’t worry about the noise. It’s just me and Dandi next door and I work from home only a few days a week.”

“What do you do?”

“Ah, yes. I run an arts nonprofit. Wolfshead Art and Film.” He slipped a business card out of the little pocket on his phone case and handed it to Geralt. “We do several showcases a year and then of course the big arts festival in the spring. Plus free classes for kids and seniors and paid instruction and one-on-one tutorials. Oh, and the workshop and studio are new this year.” He smiled proudly. “We were bursting at the seams in the old place so I found a shuttered retail space. The other half still needs some work.” He glanced back at Eskel and Lambert. “I don’t suppose either of you are carpenters?”

“Actually, this one is,” Eskel said, hooking a thumb over his shoulder at Lambert. “And I -”

“Don’t do it,” Lambert said with a groan. “Don’t you fucking dare -”

“....do everything he doesn’t.” The other three groaned but Eskel beamed. “In all the ways that count, that is.” And then the big man winked and Jaskier felt it hit him in the gut.

“Ignore them, they’re idiots.” Despite Geralt’s words, his tone was affable, light. “Honestly, I’m surprised Eskel’s being the flirt. That’s usually Lambert.”

“You know it!” Lambert yelled as he tossed a box at Eskel, who caught it easily. 

“Well, I won’t keep you but uh, stop by sometime and say hi. Ciri will be over the moon to meet Dandelion.” Geralt tucked the card Jaskier gave him into a pocket with a smile.

They exchanged numbers and Jaskier promised a playdate for Dandelion and Ciri. As Geralt went back to the box truck to haul out another load of boxes, Jaskier turned to continue on to the farmer’s market. But as he glanced back, he caught Geralt watching him. The other man looked away quickly but there was a slight smile on his face.

The tips of his ears burning, Jaskier gave Dandelion a pat on the head. “You were so good, I’m so proud.” _And I’m definitely not going to admit to being a little turned on right now. Don’t go lusting after gorgeous neighbors, Jaskier._

_Your heart can’t take another beating._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for panic attacks, nightmares

“Hop in, kid.”

“Pops.”

Geralt grinned. “Too old for kid? Hmm, okay. How about...schmooples?”

Ciri rolled her eyes but she was smiling as she buckled her seatbelt. “Okay, old man.”

“Ouch. You know, Triss told me when kids get older, they get mean. Looks like she was right.”

“Ha. Ha.” Ciri pulled out the granola bar Geralt always stashed in the door console for their after-school ride home. She was careful not to let any crumbly bits float to the floor as she opened it up. The car was one of the few possessions Geralt treasured, so she always made sure to obey his one rule about food in the car. _Don’t make a mess_. “So? Please don’t keep me in suspense any longer.”

One hand on the wheel, he reached over and ruffled her hair. “Yeah, we’re going. It’s actually not far from here so -“

“I can walk to school?”

Geralt went quiet. He didn’t want to dampen her spirits. But he had to fight with his instinct to overprotect, to coddle. To shield Ciri away from the world so she would be _safe_. She’d had enough upheaval in her young life and getting this house was a way for Geralt to provide one more bit of security. Another stabilizing factor. No more moving around, him chasing jobs after getting out of the military. No more chasing lovers, most of whom didn’t want to settle down with a former super soldier who killed people for years and had nightmares almost every time he closed his damn eyes.

Even Yen didn’t want to be saddled with a sad sack like him. He didn’t blame her for following her dreams and ambitions. He’d just been glad to part amicably, and before Ciri had come into his life. 

Ciri had been that stabilizing influence for him. The least he could do was bend the world for her.

“We’ll see,” he said. “Let’s get us settled first and we’ll go from there.”

She pointed at him and winked. “I’ll hold you to that.”

 _Shit, what nine year old says things like that?_ “You’re not doing great about making me feel not old, kid.”

“But you _are_ old.”

“And you’re trouble.”

She batted her eyelashes at him and he chuckled. “But you love me.”

Geralt’s heart swelled. “You know I do.”

“Love you too, Pops.” They rode in silence for a few minutes until Geralt turned the car onto Toussaint Lane. Ciri’s eyes lit up immediately. “Is this it?”

“Yeah, it is.” He didn’t even bother to keep the pride out of his voice.

They rolled to a stop on the street in front of the house, since the box truck was still there. Lambert and Eskel were on the front porch, legs hooked over its edge as they tore into a six pack. Vesemir was probably in back, fussing with the gardens.

“Dad,” Ciri breathed, fingers hurriedly undoing her seatbelt. “ _Dad_.”

Geralt turned off the ignition. “Do you like it?”

Ciri sucked in a huge breath, eyes wide. “I love it! It’s so cute! Oh my god!” And she flung herself at him, both of them laughing. 

“Yeah, this is home,” he said into her hair. 

By the time Ciri ambled out of the car and over to Eskel and Lambert, Geralt managed to get the lump in his throat to fade. Shit, she was so excited, bouncing around her uncles and chattering nonstop about how tough it was to grow tomatoes with Vesemir.

Shaking his head, he walked out to the mailbox. There probably wasn’t anything yet, since he’d just forwarded the mail. But peering inside he saw a slight shape, flat and square, with something else stuck to it. Geralt carefully pulled out the items and stared down.

It was an old-school Polaroid photograph of Dandelion laying in a patch of sunlight, a ball between her front paws, her big ears at attention. Scribbled below in black pen was: 

**_“Hi Ciri! My name is Dandelion and I live next door. Come over sometime and play fetch with me! And bring your dad. My dad grills a mean hamburger (vegan if you’d prefer!).”_ **

Attached to the photo with a silver ribbon was a bright yellow dandelion. And on the back of the photo was a post-it note addressed to Geralt: “I hope this is okay. Dandi could use a new friend and honestly, so could I. Feel free to come over anytime. - Jaskier”

 _I’m in trouble_ , Geralt thought as he looked at the picture then back to the note. The sheer enormity of thought that went into such a simple, sweet gesture told him a lot about his new neighbor. _Fuck, I’m in big trouble_. Being a single dad was never easy, but Ciri was so smart and so perceptive that even when she was a toddler, she seemed to sense when things were amiss. It wouldn’t do to walk into the house with an idiotic grin on his face. 

But he’d been alone for a while and it lingered, like an old injury. Of which he had a few, and the scars to prove it. He was also never one for casual dating. Certainly not casual sex. His eyes flicked over to Jaskier’s house, with its pristine garden beds and spotless windows. He thought up a few reasons to go by and ring the doorbell, outside of bringing Ciri over to play with the dog. He didn’t see any modes of transportation beyond the Prius and mountain bike in the garage; so probably not a motorcycle guy. 

Maybe they both liked the same alcohol? Geralt would drink just about anything, but he had a soft spot for good Scotch and malty beers and slightly shitty wine. And the message had mentioned hamburgers, which was definitely a good starting point. Geralt loved to cook, especially because Ciri would eat almost anything and so would he. So experimenting with food was one of their few pleasures when the budget had been tight and they couldn’t afford takeout more than a few times a year.

But now the shop was prosperous, with a second location opening up in White Orchard once he could find the right space. He had money socked away for a rainy day and then some, which felt odd and luxurious at the same time. Ciri had a whole new wardrobe and, from what he picked up on her conversation with his brothers, already had plans for her room. Which mostly included a big table for all her plants, cuttings from Vesemir’s garden that she doted on.

And then maybe he could ask Jaskier about dogs and his volunteer work. Love of animals was a good sign, right? Denoted upstanding moral character. Hopefully.

“Pops!” 

Geralt blinked, shaken from his reverie. “Yeah, coming.” Ciri was seated between Eskel and Lambert, watching as Vesemir paced the length of the garden beds out front and muttered about weeds and poor topsoil. “Don’t get yourself too bent out of shape, old man,” he teased. “I promise I won’t touch the beds until you come over to supervise.”

“Damn right,” Vesemir replied, still staring at the washed out mulch and chipmunk holes that dotted the ground.

“What’s that?” Ciri pointed at the photo in his hand.

“From the new neighbor.” Geralt passed her the photograph and dandelion, carefully watching her face as she read the message. And there it was - that light, bright as the sun and breaking him down into a puddle that lacked all willpower. “She’s a good dog, we met her earlier.” Eskel and Lambert exchanged a knowing grin, which he pointedly ignored. He’d text them later, tell them to fuck off in that offhanded, easy way they all had with each other.

“Holy shit,” she breathed before freezing in place. “Sorry.”

Lambert snickered, which Geralt answered with a punch to his shoulder. “Stop teaching the kid words like that.”

“I hear other kids say them all the time.”

“But you don’t.”

“Nope. You don’t like it when I curse.”

Eskel whistled. “Geez, Geralt. So strict. Won’t even let the kid say damn.”

He turned his ire on Eskel. “Don’t you fu - don’t start.” Which only made Eskel and Lambert laugh harder and Vesemir roll his eyes at them.

Ciri turned her attention back to the photo. “She’s really pretty. Do you think I could walk her?”

Geralt shrugged. “We’d have to ask Jaskier. The neighbor. Dandelion seemed well behaved but he also said she loves kids.” He leaned in, grinning. “She might take one look and decide slobbering on you is more fun than any walk.”

He lunged for her then and she took off like a sparrow, laughing and shrieking as Geralt gave chase.

* * *

  
Was it uncouth to talk to your new neighbor twice in one day? Jaskier didn’t want to make Geralt think he was needy or nosy or weird, but he also had leftovers for days. And eating chicken and rice pilaf after a few meals was going to get old.

_They just moved in, they might appreciate it. Probably don’t have anything in the house. But what if they did the age-old tradition of pizza during a move? Should I have gotten beer to take over there? Shit, I’ve only got wine. But all kinds of people drink wine and it’s a little wrong of me to think a man like that only drinks beer._

_Get it together, you dummy._

Resigned to his fate, he double checked their drive to see the box truck and red Hemi gone, leaving only the little Subaru he figured belonged to Geralt. They were home and hopefully hungry. Jaskier made quick work of scooping two heaping, still steaming servings of the pilaf into carryout containers and grabbing a bottle of wine. A last minute decision had him tossing in a handful of plastic cutlery and napkins into a bag with the food before heading over. He passed Dandelion on the way out, clucking at her softly as she lay sprawled out and drooling on his couch.

“Stay,” he said gently when she rolled one eye open to peer at him. “I’ll be back.” Dandi harrumphed and closed her eye and went back to snoring.

The side door leading out of Geralt’s garage opened as he approached the front porch and a young girl with light blonde hair halfway down her back grinned. “Are you the neighbor?”

Jaskier gave her a bow - difficult with a bag slung over his shoulder, but he tried - and smiled. “That’s me. Jaskier. And you must be Ciri. A pleasure.” And he put out his hand.

She bounded over and shook it, her grip shockingly strong for such a willowy young thing. “Pops is inside, trying not to curse at a dresser.”

Jaskier grimaced. “IKEA?”

“Yeah.”

“Ooof. I’ll pray for him.” 

Ciri laughed. “Um….where’s Dandelion?”

He grinned. “I see you got my note! And currently sleeping on my couch and drooling. Best not to interrupt her fifth nap of the day. But I’ll bring her over soon, when she’s not a grouchy little butthead.” Jaskier held the bag out to Ciri. “I made way too much dinner and thought you two might be hungry.”

Ciri gasped like he’d given her a pony and peered inside. “Pops was freaking out we didn’t have much in the house. He’ll love this. I almost broke him down and got him to order pizza. But he’ll like this better.” She waved him to the front door before sticking her head in. “Hey Pops! Jaskier brought dinner over!”

There was a muffled thump, a string of creative curse words Jaskier only half made out, and then Geralt was coming around the corner. The man was a glorious mess; dirt smudged on his cheek and neck, his shirt covered in dust and pants spattered with what looked like oil or grease. And that bright white hair was hanging loose, tendrils of it sticking to Geralt’s sweaty forehead and neck. 

Ciri shoved the bag at him and as she did, Jaskier slapped his forehead with a hand. “I didn’t even think to ask about allergies! I am so sorry. I can tell you everything that’s in it or -” He held out his hand for the bag.

Geralt waved him off. “Don’t worry about it. We eat about anything in this house. This one,” and he jerked his thumb at Ciri, who stuck out her tongue, “has no fear. I swear the kid’s got an iron stomach.”

Chuckling, Jaskier held up his hands. “Understood. It’s not fancy, but it should still be hot.” With a deft move, he stuck his hand in the bag and snagged the wine bottle by the neck, holding it up for Geralt’s inspection.

The move brought him close to the other man, which was completely by accident. Jaskier willed his ears not to turn red as he brushed by Geralt and caught a whiff of sweat, dirt, and something deep and musky. Not unpleasant in the least, and rather fitting.

Geralt smiled and moved them over to a small wooden table that served as their kitchen eating area for the time being. Ciri was efficient in her motions as she pulled out the food and plastic forks, sliding one of the containers over to Geralt. “We’ll get these back to you,” Geralt said before digging in a drawer for a corkscrew. “Thank you, by the way. She almost broke me, which I’m sure she told you all about.”

Ciri grinned and then shoved a forkful of chicken into her mouth. Jaskier took particular delight in the way she mumbled, “It’s so good!” and then ate with a relish.

The wine was uncorked with a pop and then Geralt was pulling out two glasses from a box and rinsing them in the sink. “Oh no,” Jaskier said, taking a step back. “You two enjoy. And don’t worry about the containers. Leave them on the front porch if I’m not home but it’s no rush at all.”

Geralt wiggled the other glass at him. “You sure?”

“Yes. Enjoy your first night in your new home.” He glanced up at the bare chestnut beams and the ceiling fan that spun lazily. “It’s a really good house. It’ll be kind to you. And if you need something, I’m just right next door.” With a wave, Jaskier left them to their meal. And when he was finally outside, he breathed in a lungful of crisp autumn air and sighed.

Dandelion was staring at him from the picture window in the living room, her head cocked to the side. He grinned and headed back inside his house. “We’ll do introductions later,” he said softly, scratching behind her ears. “Let them get settled, okay?”

She woofed at him and then took off down the hall to curl up in her dog bed. 

“Always following you around, goofy girl,” he said fondly.

* * *

  
Geralt awoke with a start, scrabbling at his throat for the invisible hand that squeezed and cut off his air. He took deep, gasping breaths, eyes wild as he looked around the unfamiliar room.

_This is your house. Your new house. You’re home. You’re not there, waiting to get shot at. You’re home and safe. Ciri is home and safe._

_Home and safe. Home and safe._

It was the mantra he used when the dark pulled him under and memories of blood and screams waited to pounce on his psyche. 

_Home and safe. Home and safe._

The damp sheets beneath him, already going cold in the still night air, made him shiver. He hated this part. Dreaded it almost as much as he dreaded the nightmares that still plagued him. Geralt rolled over with a groan, his back and knees protesting the movement. A box of linens was near the door and he dug around in it for a blanket to wrap up in. The first thing his fingers curled around was a heavy knitted afghan.

Of _course_ that was the thing he grabbed in the middle of a cold sweat panic attack. Geralt didn’t even bother to head back to the bed. He sat down heavily and wrapped the blanket around him. For a while, early in their relationship, Yennefer had gotten into knitting. After many failed hats and mittens, she managed to painstakingly make a blanket. It took almost a year and a lot more yarn than it should have, but the end result was a black and white checked blanket big enough to wrap around them both. 

When they split, Yen wanted him to keep the afghan, among other things. It didn’t smell like her anymore, having been boxed up for years. But even with a slightly dusty scent, it was still comforting to have its familiar weight around his shoulders.

Geralt put his back against the wall, pulled his knees up to his chest, and burrowed into the blanket. He was wide awake and exhausted and sleep seemed too far off to drift back to at this point.

“Pops?”

He squeezed his eyes shut, as if in pain. He’d been so quiet and yet Ciri had still heard his anguish. “Come on in, kid.”

Ciri wordlessly padded over to him and slipped into the blanket when he opened it to her. The steady beat of her heart and her warm hands on his chilled skin helped him back to ground those last few inches.

After several long minutes, she said, “Was it bad?”

Another parent might have told a white lie to shield their child from tough realities. Not Geralt. Not after what they’d been through together. “No worse than normal.”

She frowned. “That’s still pretty bad.”

“It’s not fun,” he agreed, pulling her closer so she could put her head on his shoulder.

“I had an idea.”

Curious, Geralt turned to her. “I’m talk therapied out, kiddo. But I can try again. Just not right now.”

Ciri shook her head. “No, I know. Well, okay so you and Uncle Eskel and Uncle Lambert were in the same squad. But there are a lot of people out there who’ve seen bad things like you did.” She sat up, eyes glossy. “But Uncle Eskel’s always talking about how veterans get treated badly and I just thought….what if you started your own group?”

He stared at her. “Are you sure you’re nine years old?”

Ciri giggled. “Yes, but I’ve been told I have an old soul.” Geralt groaned playfully and she snickered. “But you could help a lot of people. A lot of people like you who need to be heard.”

“You’re absolutely not nine years old.” And while he was trying to keep the tone light, Geralt was shaken by her confidence in him. _Maybe she’s right. Maybe we could help other veterans._ “Okay, I’ll talk to your uncles. I don’t know how receptive they’ll be -”

“They’ll listen.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “You already said something, didn’t you?”

She paused, looking away. “Maybe?” And for the first time during their conversation, real frustration flickered on her elfin face. “It’s not fair, Pops. And if the veterans affairs office won’t help, then you should find a new way. No one should be hurting.”

 _Oh, kid. Damn._ His throat suddenly tight, Geralt pulled her close and rested his cheek on her head. “Where did you come from? How did I get so lucky?”

“Just remember this when I ask for a dog. Or a pony.”

He huffed into her hair, smiling despite the tears pricking his eyes. “Can do.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dandelion and Ciri meet; Geralt and Jaskier begin to get to know one another; Geralt makes a confession; Jaskier confronts a bit of his past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of a slow burn! We get a little glimpse into both their pasts here, but nothing CW as far as I can tell. Later chapters definitely have CWs, which will be labeled in a note at the beginning of those chapters.
> 
> Also, fuck Valdo Marx.

The stars were out when Jaskier pulled into his driveway. Dandelion huffed at him in the backseat and began shifting anxiously, which he knew was the sign for OH GOD LET ME OUT OF THIS METAL DEATHTRAP YOU CRAZY HUMAN. 

Jaskier popped his door open and braced for impact. Like usual, the sweet promise of freedom was too good to ignore, and her doggy brain screamed its release as she bounded out of the backseat, over him and into the night. But because she was so well trained, she came to a halt near the car’s front wheel well, dancing with excitement.

Dandelion loved night walks and honestly, so did he. But the moment he exited the car, Dandi’s attention turned to something to her right and she began her dance of excitement all over again. “Stay,” he said gently, watching her try to split her attention between his command and whatever was so fascinating at Geralt’s. He grabbed his laptop bag from the back and then heard it. Two soft voices on the cool autumn wind, just barely heard over the rustle of fallen leaves.

Jaskier grinned. He’d been so busy the last few days with the upcoming gallery show that he’d only had time to wave hello and exchange pleasantries with his neighbors. But it was Friday night, and despite a long day at the office, he relished the thought of sitting outside on his little deck and savoring a few glasses of wine. He was tired, maybe even loopy. But he really wasn’t wanting to be alone, either.

“Where are they, girl?” He asked before Dandelion took off, following the lilt of voices on the breeze, barking happily. There was a squeal of joy, and then Ciri was rushing out of the darkness, screeching to a halt before Dandelion.

“Oh my god, she’s so pretty,” Ciri breathed, eyes wide in the dim light of the sodium lamp above Geralt’s garage. She looked around, stricken, before spotting Jaskier as he approached. “How do I say hello to her?”

Jaskier motioned with his palm facing down, fingers slightly splayed. “Just like that.” His gaze flicked to the dark house. “Your dad around?”

She nodded, her face fixed in a mask of concentration. “In back. We were stargazing.”

_ Well that’s adorable and wholesome _ , Jaskier thought as he watched Ciri perfectly mimic his hand motion. Dandelion, to her credit, only shuffled a little before putting her wet, dark nose on Ciri’s fingers. He could tell from her tail and its almost violent back and forth wagging that the dog was holding on by a thread. Her excitement had a threshold. “Is that good?” Ciri asked, voice tight with wonder.

“Yeah. That’s very good.” He stood by Dandelion’s side. “Down, girl. Stay. No jumping. Ciri, are you okay with a bunch of really slobbery dog kisses?”

“Yes!”

“No jumping,” he warned again, trying to give Dandi a stern look. “Now go.”

With her release, Dandi danced in place for a mere second before barking happily and nailing Ciri right on the cheek with her ridiculously long dog tongue. Ciri giggled and launched herself at Dandi. Soon the two were rolling around in the grass, laughing and woofing with glee.

_ Fuck that’s cute. _ Jaskier grinned and laughed with them.

“Well, I’m never going to hear the end of getting a dog now.” The voice in the dark was teasing, despite its rumble. Jaskier knew Geralt couldn’t be far behind his kid, but it startled him enough that he turned quickly, shock widening his eyes. “It’s just me. I heard the commotion, hard not to.”

Geralt stepped out of the shadows and over to Jaskier’s side, letting the other man get a proper eyeful. And what an eyeful it was. That white hair hung loose and wavy over his broad shoulders, some of it brushing that cut marble jaw like that was its job. Geralt wore tight jeans and a half-zip cardigan dyed a deep forest green. The man was practically a shadow himself save that hair and bright amber eyes.

Jaskier had to swallow hard against the picture Geralt painted; his fingers twitched on his thigh, desperate to grasp the loose strands to see how soft they were. “Well, it wasn’t how I thought their first meeting would go but clearly they’re doing all right.” He gave Geralt another once-over, trying not to stare lasciviously. “I really thought we could get inside without causing a stir. I apologize. I was going to knock tomorrow and see if Ciri wanted to walk Dandelion. It’s been so damn busy at the gallery with the upcoming show and…” Jaskier stopped, rubbed the back of his neck with a hand. “Sorry. Again. It’s been a long week.”

Geralt shrugged, a smile growing on his rugged face. “No worries. We were out back, so no harm, no foul. Turns out, when you get away from the city and light pollution, you can actually see the stars. If you’re not too tired, want to join us?” He motioned to where Ciri and Dandelion were chasing each other in the front yard. “I don’t think they’re going to separate for a bit yet.”

Jaskie was tired and hungry, but he wasn’t about to spoil the moment between girl and dog. Especially not when Geralt had just invited him to stargaze. In the dark, in the cool autumn breeze. “Give me a few minutes? I need to put this down and I’m famished. I’ll bring out some snacks and those two can tire each other out.” He felt his grin grow, the edge of it teasing. “Think you can handle them for a moment?”

Geralt barked a laugh and Jaskier felt it land somewhere low in his gut, stirring embers of a long dead fire. “I’m a single dad. We’ll be okay.”

“All right then. Dandi, be good. I’m going inside for your ball and food.” Dandelion trotted over to him, prancing about on light feet as Jaskier knelt to kiss her head. “Be good.”

Trusting Dandelion to anyone was difficult, but somehow he knew, instinctually, that Geralt would keep a close eye on them. From the little he’d seen of the man’s parenting skills, Geralt warred between freedom and overprotection. And Jaskier understood some of that. Raising a kid, alone, in the modern world would have been beyond tough. But Ciri was bright and well-adjusted and she and Geralt made quite the pair. 

As he unlocked his front door and flipped on the staircase light, Jaskier idly wondered where the mother was. He’d not seen any maternal figure once next door, but if Geralt had joint custody, it made sense. And if he was a single dad in a sadder, more tragic sense, then he didn’t want to pry. But his curiosity pulled at him. He’d avoided looking Geralt up online, for fear of running into something that would spoil his perceptions. But maybe he should.

With a sigh, Jaskier boiled water and while waiting, grabbed some apples and cheese. Once the water was done, he pulled the storage container of homemade cocoa out of the pantry and fixed up a thermos. Then he put the food, thermos, and little melamine plates he always had on hand into a bag and carted it all over.

When he returned to Geralt’s yard, Ciri led him and Dandelion to the little backyard, flashlight sweeping the ground so they didn’t trip. It had only been a few days since they’d moved in and already new garden beds had been dug and edged. The sting of wood stain hit his nose and he saw the deck had a new coat and had been set up with deck chairs, a small table, and strands of solar lights. It was just enough to see where they were going but not blinding.  _ Kind of romantic, actually _ , he thought as he looked around.

Jaskier handed Ciri Dandelion’s ball, demonstrating an underhanded throw that would launch the ball far enough for the dog to chase. Girl and dog immediately began playing, their noises of glee making him smile. He finally turned back to Geralt, whistling low. “You all work fast. It’s impressive. Where were you when I moved in?”

Geralt chuckled. “If I ask the others for one thing, they’ll do four more after it. We’ve always worked that way.”

Jaskier set the bag down and began pulling out its contents, enjoying Geralt’s pleased hum when he handed him a small bottle of brandy. “I was going to go with wine but that won’t mix with the hot cocoa.”

Once they settled and Geralt had poured Ciri cocoa and he and Jaskier brandy, Jaskier took the moment to look up into the inky black sky. Stars winked back, their lights small but bright against the darkness. “We used to do this all the time,” Geralt said softly, his head tipped back, eyes fixed on the sky. “At our last place. Couldn’t really afford to do big attractions but we’d walk in the park or if the weather was warm, I’d take Roach out for a spin along the coast so we could watch the waves.”

Jaskier blinked, curious. “Roach?”

The laugh Geralt gave was self-effacing. “Probably should have eased into that. Not the bug, the fish. Weird name, I know, but it fit the bike.” He grinned and looked down at his boots. “I bought this beat up little crotch rocket from a guy who was cleaning out his garage and needed to get rid of it. My last bike had been totaled in a crash.” Geralt motioned to a slight scar on left forearm. “Left me with no bike and this. I woke up in the hospital with stitches and the story that I’d impaled my arm on a piece of glass when some idiot ran a stop sign.”

Jaskier’s eyes widened. “That’s both very scary and very fortunate.”

“No kidding.” He reached over and grabbed a piece of cheese, popping it into his mouth. Jaskier tracked the movement of broad, blunt fingers from the little plate to a bowed set of lips. If Geralt noticed him staring, he didn’t say anything toward it. “But anyways. So yeah when Ciri was little, money was super tight. When she got old enough, around five or so, we’d go up to the roof of the apartment building and put down a blanket and just stare at the stars.” Geralt looked up again, taking a deep breath. “So getting to do this in our own yard is special.”

Curiosity ate at him. Not that all children had to look like their parents, but Ciri bore none of Geralt’s features and as they watched Ciri play endless rounds of fetch with Dandelion, he blurted out, “You and Ciri. You’ve always lived on the Continent?”

“Uh, yes and no.” When Jaskier’s face fell, Geralt waved him off. ‘No, it’s just...complicated. I traveled around a lot when I was younger, after I got out of the service. Ambled around, took odd jobs, fixed people’s bikes or small machines so I could buy food. Not exactly a life for a child.” Geralt’s expression went strangely blank as he focused on his next words. “Ciri came into my life in a really backwards kind of way. It’s not something I talk about much.”

Jaskier blanched. “Oh, no. I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to pry. Damn, my mouth really does get ahead of me sometimes.”

“You’re fine,” Geralt said with a smile. “Get me drunk enough and I’ll probably tell you. I’m not a big talker to begin with but get enough alcohol in me and I don’t shut up. Or so Lambert says. Asshole.”

Something warm flickered inside Jaskier’s chest. He leaned forward casually, picking at the apple slices before moving his hand back to his brandy.  _ Am I really doing this? Yep, I am really doing this. Gods, flirting already with the new neighbor. _ “Any alcohol? Or do different kinds have different effects on you?”

The look that passed over Geralt’s face was one part incredulous, two parts amused. He shrugged, those cupid bow lips twisting into a smirk. “Brandy’s a good start. Loosens the tongue. Scotch is also good, since you don’t drink it casually. Set yourself up by the fire in the dark, let it wash over your tongue, inhale the scent of it.” He sat back in his chair, clasping his hands behind his head, gaze smoldering in the dark.

Jaskier couldn’t help but admire the way Geralt’s cardigan bulged with his biceps. He wanted to faint just a little at the sight.

“You ever had absinthe?” Geralt’s voice broke him out of his thoughts. “The good stuff, not that shit they dye green.”

Jaskier shook his head. “Never had it. The good stuff or the shitty stuff.”

Geralt blew out a hard breath, letting the vapor curl into the sky. “Oh man. It’s been years but absinthe is what I drink on very special occasions. You only need a little and you start to float. Or, at least some people do.”

Jaskier wet his lips, suddenly nervous and excited at the same time. He felt hot, even in the cool night air. “But not you?”  _ It was a dare, right? A challenge to ask the correct question. I hope I’m right. Something about the way he’s looking at me tells me I am.  _

_ Valdo used to look at me like that, in the early days. _

Geralt raised an eyebrow. “Not me. I was hoping it would get me out of my head for a bit, first time I tried it. I blame Eskel. He went through a phase of trying new liquors and somehow there we were, late at night in his apartment, drunk out of our minds on the green fairy and laughing.” He gave a little laugh, the sound barely more than a puff of air. His eyes flicked over to where Ciri and Dandelion were running around, seemingly to make sure the kid was out of hearing distance. Probably for the best because the next thing Geralt said was, “So I open my eyes and there’s Eskel, all flushed and fidgeting. Right next to me. Apparently absinthe makes some people inconsolably horny.”

Jaskier swallowed hard, which turned into a cough. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.” The smirk grew. “Next thing I know, we’re naked and rutting on each other like teenagers. It was a good night. The hangover sucked and I spent the next day in bed. But it’s still a good memory.” Then the smirk was gone. “Ah, shit. Sorry. It’s weird. I don’t usually talk so much. More of an observer. It’s nice.”

The embers in Jaskier’s gut flared. “Having someone to talk to?”

“Yeah. Outside of Eskel and Lambert and Vesemir. They know all the stories and we’re all probably a bit too jaded sometimes.” The heat of the moment from Geralt’s confession began to wane and he took on a neutral expression, like a door closing somewhere in his mind. “But yeah, if you want a good time, try absinthe.”

Silence filled the space around them just as Ciri and Dandelion dashed up onto the deck. Ciri jumped into Geralt’s arms and then they were both laughing as Geralt smoothed down her hair. “Getting late, kid.”

“Yeah, I know.” She leaned forward and opened her arms and Dandelion woofed and came to her. “She’s a really good dog, Jaskier. Thank you for letting me play with her.”

Jaskier looked at the dog and back to Ciri, grinning. Trying to put on a good face after the conversation had turned awkward. “Anytime. Honestly, you did me a favor by wearing her out. Sometimes we have to go for night w-a-l-k-s because she’s so wound up.” He grimaced playfully. “I have to spell it otherwise she goes nuts.”

Geralt and Ciri both laughed as they helped Jaskier pick up the remaining food and drinks. Jaskier passed the bottle of brandy to Geralt. “Keep it. I’m not big on brandy most of the time and you’ll get more use out of it.”

“You’re sure?”

Jaskier nodded. “Absolutely. I’m more of a wine and Scotch person. If you want, we should have drinks some night.” He pointed up to the second story of his place, where there was a small balcony. “It’s nice up there. Peaceful. When I’ve had a long week that’s where I usually go.”

Geralt smiled. “Yeah, that sounds nice. I’d probably have to wait until Ciri was in bed, or when she’s at Vesemir’s. She goes once a month or so, since the old man’s basically her grandpa.”

“IS my grandpa!” Ciri hollered from inside the kitchen. Her face appeared in the doorway out to the deck. “He can fight me all he wants but he’s my grandpa.”

Both men laughed and Ciri waltzed back inside. “She’s way too clever for her own good,” Geralt said fondly, staring at the space she disappeared into. “But yeah, that sounds nice. Text me when you want to do that and we’ll figure it out.”

Jaskier nodded and packed up the rest of his bag, then whistled to Dandelion, who trotted over. “Sorry about earlier, again. I tend to just talk people’s ears off and I forget that not everyone wants or likes that.”

“Don’t worry about it.” And then Jaskier caught sight of a slight flush around Geralt’s collarbone and he realized the other man was embarrassed. “I uh….shit. That thing with Eskel, it was a long time ago. You’re probably wondering. We never had anything between us but affection and love. Been through some bad shit together. But after that night, he told me he felt more confident in who he was. We never did it again. But it also never made anything weird between us.” Geralt scratched idly at the scar on his left forearm. “I’m not great with people. I can fix anything with an engine. Mostly. Machines make sense to me. People are harder. Sometimes I talk and don’t realize that what I’m saying might make people feel weird.” He hit Jaskier with a raw, open look that lodged in Jaskier’s chest. “I’m really sorry.”

Jaskier gaped, baffled. “Wha - what? Geralt, please. I work with  _ artists _ . Do you have any idea the bizarre, sometimes fascinating stuff I bear witness to? The things I could tell you would make your hair fall out, and then some. What was between you and Eskel was just that. You shared something very personal and I’m honored you felt comfortable enough to do so. We’ve only known each other a few days.”

Geralt scuffed the deck with the toe of his boot, looking down. “Still. Shouldn’t have run my mouth like that. But thanks.”

“Anytime.” Jaskier smiled at him, easy and gentle and hoping it would calm the other man down. “You were very open with me and I feel like perhaps we should get back on even ground with each other.”

“You don’t have to -”

Jaskier walked around the little deck table and put a hand on Geralt’s shoulder. “I bought my place a couple of years ago. Had to start all over again after a really nasty breakup, after a relationship that I should have left long before I did. White Orchard’s pretty LGBT friendly, but even now sometimes I still feel like an outsider. Plus I spend far too much time alone, so I overthink everything.” He gave Geralt’s shoulder a firm squeeze before letting go. “If you want a friend, you’ve got one living right next door.”

Something broke open in Geralt’s eyes. They lost a bit of the darkness Jaskier had noticed from their first meeting and when he smiled this time, the slight crinkles at their corners drew up endearingly. It made Jaskier want to fix whatever was hurting him, and maybe exile  _ whoever  _ had hurt Geralt to a remote island with no way of return. 

“You’re a kind person, Jaskier.” Geralt’s voice was low and in the little space between them, the moment felt close. Intimate. Jaskier’s breath caught in his chest as Geralt continued with, “And thank you. Life’s kicked me in the teeth over and over again and for the first time, this feels like the start of something really good. Me, Eskel, Lambert, even Vesemir? We’ve all been through similar shit so yeah we’re family, but sometimes we can only relate to each other so much.”

“I get it,” Jaskier replied. He wanted to reach out to Geralt again, to touch him, to tether him with a simple, meaningful gesture and provide human contact that they both desperately needed. His hands clenched at his sides and he watched those amber eyes widen ever so slightly. “I should get my furry child to bed or she’ll start pouting.” It felt shallow to say in light of Geralt’s confession but he was getting so bound up in his head, overanalyzing his every move and word. He could feel himself floundering, getting flustered. “But Sunday is pancake day so if you two are so inclined, I’m usually up and about around eight. Happy to have you over for some - if I may say so - truly delicious little pockets of dough with as much syrup and berries as you want.”

Geralt gave a chuckle, the sound rusty like he didn’t make it very often. “It’s a good thing Ciri was out of earshot when you said it.” He paused, that gaze assessing Jaskier so closely he felt flayed open by it. But it wasn’t uncomfortable in the least. “Whoever it was, they didn’t deserve you, Jaskier. You’ve shown me and Ciri more kindness in a few days than some people have over years. I’m a little blown away by it. It’s like you never judged us pulling up in a rusty truck. You didn’t flinch when you found out I work with my hands or that I’m a single dad. You were kind, immediately, to every important person in my life.” Warm fingers slid around Jaskier’s upper arm, making his breath catch. “You’re a kind person. Giving. Loving. Thank you for showing me they still exist.”

Tears stung the corners of Jaskier’s eyes and he blinked furiously, willing them to recede. He was called competent, told how much the artists in the community appreciated him. He’d collected accolades from small business owners and a few features in the newspaper. But  _ kind _ ?  _ Giving? Loving _ ?

Those were things he wasn’t sure about. His walls had been broken down so thoroughly and then smashed to bits by that bastard that  _ kind  _ and  _ giving  _ and  _ loving  _ struck him as  _ vulnerable. Impressionable. Gullible.  _

_ Easily led. Easily used. Easily destroyed. _

“I’m….hmmm. I don’t know what to say.” He knew he sounded on the edge of crying and silently cursed himself. “I think you and I could both use a friend pretty badly.”

“Yeah. Yeah, we could.” Geralt let go of his arm and stepped back into the open doorway. “Good night, Jaskier.”

“Night.” Once Geralt was inside, his door shut and locked and the blinds pulled down, Jaskier whistled for Dandelion and headed home. He went through the motions of putting the items in his bag away and rolling Dandi’s ball into her toy chest. He headed upstairs, got changed, brushed his teeth, and fell into bed.

And as he scooped Dandelion close to his chest, his face buried in her soft fur, he let himself cry.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: brief discussions of anxiety and panic attacks. 
> 
> Also, Lutz was a side character in “Show Me Your Secrets, and I’ll Show You My Sins” and I couldn’t let him go.

_ Sunday _

Ciri was the first one through his front door, arms already open to accept an excited Dandelion. Jaskier shook his head, his expression fond. “Dandi, be good.”

Ciri ruffled the dog’s short mane, grinning. “She’s so good. Yes you are! The best girl.”

Geralt snorted and ruffled his daughter’s hair. “No roughhousing, this isn’t our place.” He looked around at the spotless white walls and distressed wood shelving in the living room. The focal point of the room was a low dark blue couch dotted with throw pillows done in geometric designs and a light blue throw over one corner. The shelves held small framed pictures, handfuls of books, and delicate pots of succulents. It was bright but welcoming and Geralt could picture sitting on that couch and sipping Scotch. “I think I’m going to have to get decorating tips from you. This is really nice. Relaxed.”

Jaskier beamed. He did pride himself on his artistic eye and spatial awareness, though he was no artist in the sense of paints or color schemes. His talents had always been in music. “I can’t take all the credit. A good friend, who helps me run the gallery for the nonprofit, helped me pull a bunch of ideas together and made it work. You should come down to the gallery and talk to him, he’ll be over the moon to decorate someone else’s house.”

Geralt paused, worry creasing his features. “Afraid I can’t afford much right now. Not with getting new flooring and paint done in our place.”

Jaskier led them into the kitchen, where a bowl of pancake batter sat, waiting. The little kitchen island was the focal point of the room and Ciri and Geralt sat on the barstools while Dandelion rested under their feet. Jaskier began pouring batter onto the griddle as he said, “Lutz is a good soul. While I won’t speak for him, you being my new neighbors will certainly get you the friends and family discount. You’d have to buy the supplies, of course, and provide him with a lot of ideas. Probably mood boards to start.”

Geralt arched an eyebrow. “I have no idea what that is.”

Ciri looked up from her artistic expression of berries on her plate. “Where you put pictures together of a vibe or a feeling?”

“No idea still.”

Jaskier and Ciri both groaned good naturedly, exchanging knowing looks. “It’s okay, old man,” Ciri said soothingly as she patted his hand.

“That’s it, you’re grounded.”

“You don’t believe in grounding me.”

“Who said?”

“You did.”

“Shit.”

Jaskier couldn’t help but laugh at their affectionate teasing. He focused on making pancakes and keeping up with idle chatter. It helped him ignore the ache in his chest at their easy banter and clear love for each other. 

Geralt was a very good dad, that much was clear. From the way he talked about Ciri, she gave him something he’d been seeking or very much needed at a vital point in his life. The way they interacted with each other was full of love, and it was easy. Like they’d been father and daughter in past lives and all the lives ahead. So they got to focus on enjoying each other because that relationship spanned timelines.

Jealousy twinged in his heart. It hadn’t been the same, of course, with him and Valdo. But once, a very long time ago, he’d thought they’d have something easy and loving. And after what Geralt had said on Friday night, and how he’d bawled himself to sleep afterwards….

His heart hurt, but he wasn’t sure if it was pain or healing, like resetting a broken bone. 

Ciri asked him questions about Dandelion - her favorite food (anything), her favorite toy (balls or anything that squeaked), and if she slept in his bed (she did only rarely). Geralt watched him closely and every now and then Jaskier could feel the weight of his gaze, like a steady hand. It wasn’t invasive or lewd, it bore no real heat. But Jaskier felt it all the same.

_ Assessing. We share something intimate the other night and now he’s probably wondering why he opened up to a complete stranger. _

Once settled with mountains of pancakes and coffee and orange juice, Jaskier sat across from them, fork poised over his plate. “You two have to be honest if they’re horrible. I’ve been accused of having no taste buds from time to time.” He waved the fork in an arc. “Which is bull because my food is always delicious.”

Geralt snorted and with a nod to Ciri, they both dug in. Moments later, Jaskier got the very reaction he so loved seeing on another’s face as they enjoyed his culinary skills - bliss.

“She’s going to eat that entire stack and then some,” Geralt warned, his voice warm with affection as they both watched Ciri shovel pancakes into her mouth. 

Ciri swallowed and grinned. “My record is fifteen pancakes.”

Jaskier gave her an incredulous look. “I’m shocked you’re not made of batter and syrup. How?”

“Pops says I have a bottomless stomach.”

He shook his head, laughing. “Ah, the metabolism of youth. How I envy you.” He grinned at Geralt over the stack of pancakes between them and got a smile in return.

As the food disappeared, Geralt asked, “So what does Sunday look like for the Jaskier household?”

“Hmmm, it’s usually pretty quiet.” Jaskier let his gaze drift into the next room. “Dandi and I enjoy the slow days, since some weeks I’m at the gallery or the foundation all the time. Today is ‘Oh god, I need to clean and do laundry’, since most of that’s gone to the wayside of late.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow at him. “Jaskier, this place is spotless.”

“I didn’t give you a tour for a reason, my friend. Public facing rooms got the quick tidy-up. Everything else is not hospitable for company.” Geralt laughed and the sound wormed into Jaskier’s chest. “And  _ someone _ left all her toys out the other night, so her room is a mess.”

Geralt nudged Ciri. “Sounds like someone else I know.”

“Hey!” Ciri protested before shoving more food in her mouth.

“Remember that one time you left every single piece of plastic food in the fridge? And then I didn’t find the fake bread and fake peas until a few days later? In the freezer?”

Ciri frowned. “You told me to put my toys away and my brain said it was food and needed to go in the fridge.”

Jaskier sputtered a laugh into his coffee cup. “I’m not finding much fault with her logic, Geralt.”

Geralt grumbled something unintelligible but he was smiling. 

* * *

After Jaskier’s loud insistence that he could handle cleaning up and no, they were not keeping him, Ciri took Dandelion into Jaskier’s backyard for a few rounds of fetch while the two men stood on the patio to watch. Normally a sink full of dishes and soap would ensure Jaskier immediately cleaned it up, but he hadn’t had company in so long and he didn’t want Geralt to feel compelled to assist.

Steaming mugs of coffee in hand, they both breathed in the crisp air. “Thanks again for the invite,” Geralt said as he leaned against the patio’s railing, half turned to watch Ciri and Dandi run laps in the yard. “I uh...wanted to apologize. I probably said too much the other night and that’s a stupid, selfish thing to do to a complete stranger.” The look on his face was almost anguished and Jaskier wanted to wipe it away with a soothing hand. 

The real need to make Geralt feel better should have been disconcerting at best. They  _ were _ strangers, their early friendship a tentative bond based on geographic location and the ease with which they spoke to each other. Jaskier could lie to himself and say he didn’t feel drawn to Geralt. He could convince himself he wasn’t attracted to the other man. He could even fool himself into thinking that whatever this was forming into was solely based on their neighborly status.

But he didn’t want any of that to be true. This older, wiser version of Jaskier - the one still reeling, still healing - knew better. When he was younger, it was simple to fall head over heels. He had a new crush every few weeks; most unrequited, never spoken aloud. But Jaskier knew some part of him still wanted the romance of early infatuation.

He didn’t want to think about love. He didn’t want to daydream about being held tightly against his lover’s chest, the sweat cooling on their bodies. He didn’t want to get his hopes up. A lover was one thing. The other stuff - a husband, a family - was a distant dream he’d all but written off.

And yet when he looked at Geralt, he saw more. And he hated himself a little bit for even hoping what blossomed between them could be such a thing.

“Don’t apologize. You have nothing to apologize for, Geralt.” Jaskier tried not to reply too quickly, but he could feel the avalanche of explanation pushing his mouth to say, “What I said the other night felt right. Finding new friends seems to be harder the older I get and honestly? I do think we already get along rather well.” He shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. “And maybe it’s just the sheen of a new face in my proximity, but while I might be prone to flights of fancy, I’m not usually wrong about  _ people _ .” He looked down, away from that golden gaze. “If you want to just be neighbors who wave every now and then, I’ll understand. If you want to base our relationship on Ciri occasionally taking Dandi for a walk, that also makes sense.”

“And what about what you want?”

Jaskier jerked his head up, confusion marring his features. “What do you mean?”

Geralt stepped closer, set his cup on the railing. “I get the feeling that you always put yourself last. If I’m wrong, tell me. But I also like to think I read people pretty well.” And then, strangely, the bigger man flushed. “I might have looked up your organization and then found some articles from the newspaper.”

Jaskier raised his eyebrows but a grin was tugging at his lips. “So Geralt’s a bit of an online sleuth. Interesting.”

Geralt had the gall to look affronted and he quickly said, “No! It was all on the first page of the search results.”

He laughed. “I know. Don’t worry that head of yours, I’m teasing. I occasionally have our administrative assistant run a quick search to make sure the results aren’t some terrible lie or hit piece. I do have to maintain Wolfshead’s reputation.” Jaskier wanted to put a comforting hand on Geralt’s shoulder, but he bit down on the temptation. “And to answer your question, no. You’re not wrong. My therapist had a field day when I made the revelation on my own, without her prodding.”

Geralt snorted. “Every therapist I’ve ever had has told me I have control issues.”

“Do you?”

“Maybe.”

Jaskier barked out a laugh. “Welcome to the dysfunction club, my friend. What a pair we make.”

They fell quiet as Ciri and Dandelion bounded up the stairs to them, Ciri launching herself into Geralt’s arms and Dandi turning tired circles at Jaskier’s feet before laying down with a huff. “She wear you out, kid?” Geralt asked, smoothing Ciri’s hair down.

“The opposite, I think.”

Jaskier glanced at the dog, who was now closing her eyes. “I agree. You, my tiny friend, are a dog whisperer. I will remember this. Now every time Dandi won’t settle, I’ll text your dad and ask if Ciri can come over to play.”

Jaskier watched Geralt bite back a laugh as Ciri’s eyes grew wide. “Really? Could I do that?”

“He’s joking. I think.” With fluid ease, he nearly flung Ciri onto his back, and then let out an exaggerated groan. “Geez, kid. I think those pancakes are my back’s limit.” But Geralt’s eyes were alight with mirth and Jaskier couldn’t help but chuckle at the two of them. “All right. Let’s leave Jaskier alone and go do our own cleaning, yeah?”

“Yep! Thanks again for the food, Jaskier! It was really good.”

“My pleasure, you two.”

“Charge!” she yelled and with a wink, Geralt took off at a blistering speed, leaving Jaskier and Dandelion to watch them go.

* * *

_ One week later _

Lutz handed him a creamy bone-white envelope. “Here.”

Jaskier looked up from his laptop, frowning. “Please don’t tell me that’s another thank you note from Anita. I can’t handle any more cat hair bookmarks.”

Lutz snickered and sat down beside Jaskier’s desk. The second hand stool creaked and he gave it a worried look. “Am I about to be pranked and land on my ass?”

Jaskier rolled his eyes. “You know that stool is rickety and yet insist on sitting on it every time you swing by to see me.” He pointed at the envelope. “So, what is it?”

With a flourish of graceful hands, Lutz pulled out a thick paper square and presented it to Jaskier for inspection. His mouth dropped open. “You know the organization can’t afford this,” he managed to choke out. “Where did you -”

“The new owner of the print shop in town happens to be a patron of the arts,” Lutz replied airily, like he didn’t see Jaskier’s shocked expression. He rifled in his attache and pulled out a small stack of forms. “All filled out correctly, I might add. Very eager to donate invitations for this year’s big benefit. You’ll want to finalize everything and meet Veronica soon to get details arranged.”

Some part of Jaskier’s brain wasn’t registering what Lutz was saying. “You secured this how? Please don’t tell me you made any promises outside of our standard donation agreement.”

“Not at all.” Lutz pushed the stack of paperwork forward. “Double check it but it’s all above board. Also, might I add, super nice lady. Far more pleasant and personable than ol’ Grouch McDougal. The man practically drove himself out of business with that sour face of his.”

Despite the panic fluttering in his chest, Jaskier laughed dryly. The invitation mock up was a thing of beauty, with dark blue print on textured cardstock that felt good in his hand. He’d always wanted to do their annual benefit gala right - beautiful invites, black tie, champagne. The works. But nonprofits often ran on shoestring budgets and they never had the funds to do more than a very nice party for the biggest donors and city elite. Jaskier prided himself on making the best of what they could offer as a small organization, but this year was turning into something different.

A large part due to the fact that Lutz was a consummate charmer and a rather sly organizer. They’d been friends for years but Lutz never asked for favors or pay for his advice. And finally Jaskier realized he  _ needed _ the man’s expertise and wit, and brought him on as the gallery manager where local artists showcased their work. It had been a smart move, one that benefitted the entire Wolfshead family, and Jaskier liked to think it helped the community as well. 

As he and Lutz worked through the details of their latest donation, part of Jaskier marveled at the easy way Lutz held himself. Sitting on a rickety stool, one slim ankle crossed over his leg, immaculately dressed in a thick black sweater and fitted pinstripe pants; Lutz looked like he belonged in an art gallery in Novigrad or Oxenfurt. And with his fashionable, rimless glasses and artful flop of black hair going grey at the temples, it was hard not to look at him. 

“I think this year we make it happen, boss,” Lutz teased. “Invites are secured. We have use of the observatory on campus, which is a very elegant setting. I’m working on securing donations of food and raffle prizes.”

Jaskier groaned. He  _ hated _ raffle prizes, but they always drove in big money. Usually artists donated some of their work, or he and Lutz secured prix fixe tickets to Velen, the nicest restaurant in Oxenfurt. Also impossible to get a reservation at for most. “Have you left me any work?” he asked, a smile tugging at his lips.

“You worry that pretty little head over corralling the artists. We really need bigger pieces this year, since the observatory wants to host art on all their walls.” Lutz tapped the invite mockup with a manicured nail. “And we need a title to fit the theme. Don’t forget.”

Jaskier nodded. “I’ve got something in mind but you can’t laugh at me.”

“I have never laughed  _ at you _ , my friend.”

Jaskier nodded, acknowledging the truth of Lutz’s statement. When he told Lutz his idea for the theme, his friend’s warm hazel eyes lit up. “Oh, that’s good. That’s really good. Jaskier,  _ I love it _ .”

Jaskier beamed. “So I should put on the invite “Approved by Rafael Lutz”, then?”

“Oh, please. I don’t need a reason for my ego to swell anymore.” He stood and gave Jaskier a friendly pat on the shoulder. “I’ll leave you to your corralling, then.”

“Joy.” But they both knew Jaskier loved it.

Before he turned to leave, Lutz said, “Dinner tomorrow? We haven’t had a chance to catch up in a while and I miss my friend.”

Jaskier almost sagged with relief. It had been some time; they’d both been so busy keeping on top of all the goings on of the organization that he’d felt a little out of touch. “Absolutely. Come over around seven?”

“I’ll bring the wine and my beautiful self, as always. But I want to meet the hot new neighbor.” With a beatific smile, Lutz waved and went out the side door, leaving Jaskier to watch him go.

* * *

“Damn, Geralt, this place already looks good.” Eskel turned around in a slow circle, admiring the newly scrubbed walls of the loft. “You sure you want me to replace this floor? I think it’s original to the house.”

Geralt scuffed a deep scratch in a plank with the toe of his boot. “What I don’t want is you to go through all the work trying to restore it and figure out it’s not salvageable.”

Eskel shrugged. “It’d be good practice for me, I don’t do a lot of floor restoration.”

“You want to practice on my new house?”

That got him a grin. “Not like anyone else is going to let me.”

Geralt punched him in the shoulder as he passed. “You’re an idiot.”

“And you’re stubborn and a grouch.” Eskel’s grin dropped and he gave Geralt a knowing look. “So how’s the neighbor? Jaskier, right?”

_ Oh god, it begins. I’m never going to hear the end of it now. _ “Fine,” Geralt replied stiffly as he moved a chair out of their way.

“Uh huh. Joking aside, you know it’s okay to care for people, right? People who aren’t us.”

Geralt swiped a hand down his sweaty face. “We’re really doing this now?”

“We don’t have to. But from the little bit you’ve told me, seems like a nice guy. And Ciri won’t stop talking about him and the dog.” Eskel stepped over a power cord and came to Geralt’s side. “So it seems like to me either Ciri’s got a crush, or you do.”

_ Fuck _ . “Fuck,” Geralt muttered, drawing a laugh out of his friend. “I don’t know what it is. I do know I don’t want to fuck it up. What if he just wants a friend?”

Eskel waggled his eyebrows. “Then call me.”

“Christ, you’re horrible.”

“You love me!” Eskel called out as Geralt walked down the stairs, grumbling.

Later, as they painted the loft a cheery light blue, Eskel stepped back to admire his brushwork. “Hey, man, I didn’t mean to make things awkward for you. I know you don’t do the whole casual relationship deal. I wasn’t trying to badger you into asking out Jaskier.”

Geralt blew out a harsh breath, letting it tousle the hair that had pulled loose from his bun. “I know, Eskel. It’s all right.” He looked over to see genuine concern making the other man’s eyebrows draw down. “I don’t honestly know what to think. I haven’t been in a relationship since Yen. Don’t think I know how to even do the dating thing anymore. My concern is always Ciri.”

“Ah, man, come on.” Heavy footfalls echoed in the space and then Eskel’s arm was around his shoulders. It was a comforting touch, one he was grateful for. “Are you doing that thing again where you think you don’t deserve happiness?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Geralt said, his nose wrinkling. 

“You’re a bad liar, Wolf. Even worse at taking care of yourself.” Now Eskel brought him around so they were face to face, a big hand on each shoulder. “We’ve talked to you about this before.”

“Yeah, and that was a depression cycle that -”

“That was really bad. I know you won’t do anything dumb. But happiness is more than just doting on the kid.” Eskel’s hands squeezed, the touch comforting in a way Geralt needed. It grounded with its familiarity. “If you don’t wanna date, I get that. And I get no casual stuff. It makes sense, cause a lot of that is messy and you don’t want drama to upend what you’ve built. But Geralt, if you  _ do _ have any desire to bring someone else into your life, they’re not gonna drop on your doorstep. It takes work, brother. It’s okay to be a little vulnerable and to want things.”

His next question shook Geralt to his core. “What do you really want?”

Later that night, as he outside in the dark, ears perked to catch any creak of door hinges lest Ciri catch him with a joint in his hand, Geralt asked himself that same question.

_ What do I want? Kid’s growing up faster than anything. The house is good, could be better. The business is booming and I just signed the lease on the second garage. Income and shelter and food. Ciri doing well in school.  _

_ Maybe Eskel’s right. But am I supposed to pine after someone I barely know? That seems….far-fetched at best. But I don’t do the bar scene and I’m not dating anyone around the garage.  _

_ But I could buy that bottle of Scotch and take it over. Ciri’s at Vesemir’s next weekend and I could see how Jaskier is when the kid’s not around. Though I doubt he’s any less charming or kind. _

_ He is kind. He seemed shocked when I said that. So someone hurt him in the past. Probably the ex he talked about briefly. _

_ I’m also ignoring the fact that he’s good looking. God, those eyes. From the moment he came over with Dandelion I wanted to fall into them. Hell, even Vesemir commented on the color of them.  _

Geralt dug around in his pocket and pulled out his phone, wincing as the screen’s bright light hit his dark-adjusted eyes. It wasn’t terribly late but it also wasn’t a respectable time. Before he could think about it too much, he fired off a text to Jaskier.

_ Sorry it’s late. Got too much on my mind. Ciri’s at Vesemir’s next weekend. Want me to bring over that bottle of scotch we talked about? _

He hit SEND before he could overthink it.

* * *

Jaskier’s phone dinged and he watched Dandi perk up in the bathroom mirror. He padded over to his nightstand and saw Geralt’s name.

Just a name, and his heart began to beat faster.  _ Christ, get ahold of yourself, Pankratz. _

Jaskier unlocked the phone and quickly read the message. Then read it again, this time letting a smile flit over his face. He fired back a quick reply.

_ Sounds nice. Plan on Friday night? Name the time. And tell me what you want to eat, I’ll make us something. Good Scotch is supposed to be enjoyed with a proper meal, after all. _

It’s not a date, he told himself as he stared in the mirror, rubbing his knuckles against week-old stubble. But it will be nice.

When he awoke the next morning, Geralt’s reply awaited him.

_ Done. Glenlivet it is, if we’re eating. Salmon’s usually my go-to but don’t put yourself out. I’ll bring over some things, too. _

As they shored up plans for the following Friday, Jaskier’s phone rang. Lutz was on the other end. “My dear friend, you will not believe what just fell into my lap.”

Jaskier gave a tired chuckle. “Oh no.”

“Oh YES. You will be singing my praises all day and into the night as we toast our good fortune and my daring-do.”

“Lutz.”

“Yes?”

“You’re going to tell me, right?”

Lutz laughed. “I guess I could be mean but I won’t. Guess who got the orchestra to come in and play during the benefit? Along with year passes to said orchestra for the raffle.”

Jaskier sat down heavily on the bed. “You’re fucking with me.”

“Not a bit. See! Not even making jokes about your word choice at eight thirty in the morning.”

“Christ.” Jaskier’s mind whirled with possibilities. They had tried every year to book the orchestra to play during the annual benefit, and yet there was always an excuse. And somehow, this year, Lutz broke through all the bullshit.

“And yes, I have all the proper forms so they are officially contracted with us.” Lutz paused, and then said, “We really should re-evaluate the ticket prices. The orchestra alone will be a huge draw, and if we increase even ten dollars, we can make up most extraneous costs since we’ll need more seats and tables.”

Jaskier began rushing around his room, phone tucked between his cheek and shoulder. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. I gotta bring Dandi with me, the sitter’s out on vacation.”

“I’ll get the coffee.”

“You do know me.”

“I do, don’t I?”

Laughing, Jaskier hung up and looked into his closet. On top of everything else, he was going to need a proper tuxedo for the benefit.  _ One thing at a time. _


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A flash from the past spirals Jaskier into his anxiety; Geralt and Lutz help Jaskier recover; Lutz and Jaskier talk about love and kindness and crushes; and Geralt and Lutz have a heart-to-heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine’s Day! I bring you both heartbreak and love with a new chapter, my lovely readers. I’m going to slow down posting so I can get more written, but I hope you enjoy this one. It was really hard to write.
> 
> Content warning: active descriptions of anxiety and panic attacks. I suffer from these and I’m sure many of you do as well. I see you, and I know what you go through.

The day went by so quickly that by the time he realized it was past five, Jaskier was still at his desk. He hadn’t eaten anything but a handful of nuts all day, and Lutz hadn’t been around to press him into getting lunch.

The Wolfshead office was dark save for his little desk lamp, and the sun was already flirting with the horizon. “Come on, girl,” he said as Dandelion lifted her head off his shoes. “Let’s go home. Lutz is coming over, you like him.”

As the dog danced around him, now excited as he began to pack up, Jaskier’s phone buzzed in his pocket. It was Lutz, asking what kind of wine he wanted. He typed back a quick reply that he knew would stick in the man’s craw, grinning as he did so.

Lutz’s return text came back with a hearty “FUCK YOU” to Jaskier’s emoji of a shrugging person. The next text said, “But I love you anyways, you unsophisticated clod.”

He locked up the office and went out the back door to where his car was the only one in the lot. The hardware store next door was still doing a hearty business, as was the diner on the corner. Jaskier toyed with the idea of picking up food from the diner instead of cooking, but waved the thought away. Lutz always said their food was greasy, but he also cleaned his plate every time.

“Hey!”

Jaskier whipped around, looking for the face to connect with the voice. A familiar head of slicked back hair came into view, and then he saw Geralt’s friend Lambert ambling toward him, a grin on his face. “Hello to you as well,” Jaskier said, motioning to Dandelion to sit.

“Hell, she’s all right.” Lambert motioned to the Great Dane. “Can I say hi?”

“Sure.” Dandi’s tail began wagging furiously. “You already got the butt wiggle of approval.”

Lambert laughed and put his hand out, which Dandelion prompt sniffed, then licked. A moment later, Lambert was knelt before her, rubbing her ears. “Nice to see you, Lambert. Still working on a Friday?”

Lambert’s attention flickered up to Jaskier. “Yeah, just wrapping up. I hate not having supplies for the next day’s job and I ran out of a few things, so Herbert hooked me up.” He jerked a thumb at the hardware store. “Unsolicited advice, go to Herbert. Not those fucking big box stores that don’t pay their staff for shit and make them work long hours.”

“So noted.” He watched Lambert grin at him, then at Dandelion. “By the way, I was going to ask Geralt for your contact information. I’ve got some shingles loose and I don’t know the up from down on a roofing nail. Could I have you come out and take a look?”

“Yeah, no problem.” Lambert stood, his lanky frame graceful and hard to ignore. He pulled out a bent business card and handed it over without an ounce of self-consciousness. “Top number’s the office. I’ve got a new admin assistant. He’s young but quick with the scheduling software. Nice to have someone else book things for a change.”

Jaskier smiled. “And you’re giving someone a job. One of the better parts about owning your own business, in my opinion.”

Lambert rocked back on his heels, hands now stuffed in the pockets of his overalls. “Yeah, good kid too. He walked in the first day and said, “Tannos, but you can call me Marx.”

Jaskier froze, all friendly demeanor dropped off his face. “Marx?”

Sensing something was very wrong, Lambert pulled his hands out of his pockets and let his eyes narrow. “Yeah. Like that hotshot musician from -”

“Oxenfurt.” It was no more than a whisper, because that was all Jaskier could manage to get out. He took a deep breath, then another, but already his vision was swimming. Jaskier cleared his throat, the sound painful, and managed to say “I’d rather just book through you, if that’s all right.”

Lambert shrugged, but he was clearly confused and more than a tad concerned. “Yeah, sure.” He reached out to Jaskier but didn’t touch him. “You all right? You look pale.”

Dandelion nudged his fingers with her head and whined. “Yes, I should just be heading home. A long week on little sleep is not good for the soul, or my constitution.” He gave Lambert a nod, his free hand balled into a fist so the other man didn’t see the trembling in his fingers, and said goodbye before walking to his car.

Not until Jaskier was safely in the driver’s seat did he let out a whimper. Valdo was long out of his life, and yet he still had such a grip. Like a cold fist in his chest, wrapped around his heart.  _ I have to let this go. I need to let this go. Or it’ll haunt me forever. _

He turned over the engine of the car, punched on the hard rock station, and drove home a little too fast, music blaring.

* * *

Geralt heard the crunch of tires on gravel and peered out around the corner of the garage to see Jaskier’s Prius come to a stop. The driver door was flung open and Dandelion bounded out, turning in dizzying circles and barking. 

He immediately noticed the bags under Jaskier’s eyes and how they were rimmed with red. Like the other man had been crying. Looking down briefly at his sweat-soaked shirt, he hesitated. Should he go over there? It didn’t help that he’d just gotten back from a run and was filthy and...yep, definitely stank. That was probably the last thing Jaskier needed, his smelly, sweaty neighbor running up on him in the middle of a crisis.

But if he  _ was  _ needing help, Geralt wanted to provide it. So he opted for the middle ground. Geralt walked out of the garage, wiping down his neck with a towel, and paused when Dandelion woofed a greeting at him. Jaskier looked up quickly, blinked, and gave him a listless wave. “Geralt.”

Something was definitely wrong. All the life, all the color had gone out of Jaskier and it made alarm bells go off in Geralt’s head. He’d seen his brothers look similar right before they had full blown panic attacks.

He started to walk over slowly, not wanting to startle the man, but Dandelion gave another bark, this one threaded with warning right before Jaskier sunk to the ground, his back sliding along the car door. Geralt dashed over and knelt beside him, his hands close but not touching. “You okay?” His hand hovered over Jaskier’s arm.

“Yes, of course.” Jaskier gave his head a little shake and smiled, but it was fleeting. “Just distracted, that’s all. But you were kind to check.”

“Jaskier.” Geralt leaned in closer. “I don’t wanna step out of line here but your face doesn’t exactly hide your emotions well.”

“Huh. Well.” Jaskier kept his eyes down. When Geralt finally touched him, Jaskier jolted with a hum of surprise. “Shit! I’m so sorry! Christ, I’m always apologizing around you, aren’t I?” His laugh was high pitched, almost a strangled sound that made Geralt frown. 

“Whoa, slow down.” Now he put his hands on Jaskier’s shoulders, a gentle, reassuring pressure. No demands, no force, no weight. “You’re pale. We should get you inside.”

“Pffftt, I’m fine,” Jaskier sang, trying to wriggle out of Geralt’s grasp. He could feel the garrote of anxiety loop around his ribcage and begin to squeeze, leaving him gasping for breath and dizzy. 

Hands pulled him to his feet as his vision bobbed and swayed, and soon he was inside, sitting on the couch. There was a comforting, warm weight on his lap and a familiar slobbery tongue licking his fingers. “Oh god,” he sobbed, bending over against the weight of his brain screaming at him to go into panic mode.

“Easy. Deep breaths.” Two strong hands rubbed his arms. “You’re home and safe. Can you say that? Home and safe.” 

He couldn’t get air in his lungs. Jaskier scrabbled at his collar, fingers shaking too much to undo the buttons. He vaguely registered Geralt’s warm fingers over his. 

“I’ve got it. Focus on breathing. You’re having a panic attack but you’re okay. It’ll soon be over and you’ll be okay. I need you to try to repeat after me, Jaskier.” Those fingers undid the top two buttons and Jaskier sucked in a greedy lungful of air and closed his eyes. “Home and safe.”

Jaskier didn’t know if he wanted to sob or laugh, but both took precious oxygen and he felt like only one lung was working. “Home and safe,” he whispered, eyes focused on the blanket on his lap and the top of Dandi’s head, which rested on his knee. 

“That’s good. You don’t have to say it a bunch.” The steady, grounding pressure of hands on his shoulders returned. “Just when you feel like you need it. But I do want you to remember to breathe.” Jaskier’s hand was picked up and placed on a warm, firm chest; the steady thump of a heart under his palm. “Breathe with me.”

Jaskier wrapped himself in the sound of Geralt’s voice and held on.

* * *

Geralt texted Ciri to let her know where he was as she got off the bus. Her only text back was,  _ Is he okay? _ And he really didn’t know how to answer that, so he texted Eskel and asked him to come over, in case Ciri needed something. Eskel didn’t live far and soon enough, the rumble of his truck could be heard outside.

“Home and safe,” Jaskier managed to say again, his breathing still uneven but it had slowed a little as he tried to follow Geralt’s breath. Geralt could feel him trembling, felt the tremors of panic in Jaskier’s arms and legs. “Geralt?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry.” 

It was a broken whisper full of sadness and grief and it made him swallow hard against the lump in his throat. “Jaskier, keep breathing. Breathe with me, nice and slow. Dandelion’s here, too.” He gently picked up one of Jaskier’s hands and put it on the dog’s head; as Jaskier’s fingers curled into her fur in a familiar way, Geralt nodded. “Good. That’s good. This will pass. I promise. I know how it feels, like someone sucked all the air out of your lungs and your senses get all clogged up.” 

Geralt put two fingers under Jaskier’s chin and raised his head so their eyes could meet. “I promise this will pass. Okay? But for now, just remember that you’re home and safe.” Jaskier’s eyes were hazy and unfocused, but he could see the other man valiantly trying to bring his attention back to Geralt. “Good. Would you rather look at me or at Dandi?”

Jaskier wet his lips with a quick swipe of his tongue. “You. Easier.”

“Yeah, I understand. Hard to look down when you feel like you can’t breathe.” Geralt wanted to pull him close and help block out the world around them but if Jaskier’s panic attacks were anything like his, being stifled would only make things worse. Geralt pressed closer to the shaking man. “What do you need? I can ask yes or no questions if that’s easier.”

Jaskier shook his head, the movement no more than a small dip of his chin. “Sit here,” he managed to get out, his hand slipping from his lap and landing listlessly on the cushion beside him.

That Geralt could do. Part of him felt helpless, but the rest wanted to leap into action. Even if he could provide warmth and safety, those things often went a long way for someone caught in the riptide of an attack. He sat down slowly, making sure to keep his movements as fluid as possible; once their hips and knees were pressed together Jaskier began to cant to the side, chasing Geralt’s warmth.

It was less a calculated move on Geralt’s part and more reaction to Jaskier lilting to the side, but he steadied the other man with an arm around his back. And that was all it took. Jaskier let out a shaking, sobbing breath and buried his face in Geralt’s shoulder. 

“Home and safe,” Geralt said softly. “Home and safe, Jaskier. I promise I’m right here.”

* * *

It wasn’t the hand gripping his or the steady thrum of a heartbeat under his ear that brought Jaskier back to reality. It was a scent. It was warm and earthy, driftwood and clove and amber with a heavy dose of clean sweat. Panic attacks always made him feel like the world was narrowed to pinpoint and he couldn’t escape the shrinking walls and gathering darkness.

Even though the scent was unfamiliar, it was comforting. Jaskier took a deep breath, stirring against Geralt’s chest. “Hey.” Just one word from the other man and he was clutching at him. “It’s okay. You’re still here, still in your house.”

“Jas.” The other voice he knew immediately. Jaskier reached out blindly and familiar fingers grabbed his. “Oh, Julian, what happened?” Lutz’s voice turned dark. “Who do I have to kill?”

Despite his aching head, Jaskier snorted. “No, don’t. It’s okay.”

“Julian.” And then very gently, he was moved to curl up against Lutz’s warmth; he took a deep breath and smelled the spicy vanilla and tobacco of his friend’s aftershave. Lutz squeezed him tightly, making Jaskier sputter. “Now, don’t fuss. Or I’ll trundle you off to bed like a toddler.”

“Was I out that long?”

“No, darling. Geralt here, big worrywort that he is, called me. You’ve only been out about thirty minutes.”

“A record for me,” Jaskier replied drolly. He rolled one eye over to Geralt, who was watching him closely. “How did you find his number?”

Geralt shrugged but he was going red in the face from embarrassment. Jaskier dimly realized the man hadn’t changed from his running gear and a pool of dried sweat had stained his shirt. “I got on Wolfshead’s website, found Lutz’s name on the gallery page, and called the number, hoping it would ring him even though it was after hours.”

“And I was still there, cleaning up the pottery studio because children are heathens.” He gave Geralt a grin. “Though I’m sure yours is lovely.”

“We were supposed to have dinner. Shit.” With Lutz’s help, Jaskier managed to sit up, but he still felt weak. His friend steadied him with strong, finely boned hands, his fingers gripping Jaskier like he was afraid to let go. “I’m so sorry.”

Lutz’s face grew serious, his hazel eyes darkening. “Jaskier, I love you to death, but don’t you fucking dare apologize to me. And don’t even think about apologizing to your very sweet, very handsome neighbor, either.” The flush on Geralt’s face deepened and Jaskier so desperately wanted to grin at him, but his head still swam with tension and stress. “Now, if you feel like you can stand, I’m going to shove you into the shower -” He held up a finger at Jaskier. “Nothing I haven’t seen before, my dear. We’re going to let Geralt go back to his own home. And then we’re going to order takeout and let you get some fresh air. All right?”

“Yes, sir,” Jaskier muttered, feeling his own face grow hot at the commanding tone in Lutz’s voice. “Geralt, thank you.”

The couch shifted and suddenly Geralt was in front of him, his expression also deadly serious. “Remember what I had you say when it started? Home and safe?” After Jaskier nodded, he said, “It’s what my first therapist taught me when I was dealing with nightmares after coming back from the war. I had PTSD really bad and was getting about two hours of sleep a night. It was horrible. He taught me that mantra, and I repeat it even now, after all this time.” 

There was a hand on his knee, squeezing gently. “We’re all broken in some way, Jaskier. Lambert and Eskel and Vesemir saved my sorry ass more times than I can count, and Ciri saves me every day. Never apologize for what you’re going through. You don’t have to. And anyone who makes you apologize for something like a panic attack is a shithead and you call me and Lutz and we’ll take care of them.”

Geralt’s words were a little rushed but Jaskier felt the emotion behind them, as though the big man needed to say it and have it done before he lost his nerve. Jaskier wanted to hug him, wanted to thank him on bended knee and grovel at the feet of someone who came to his rescue with no hope of reward. 

Who did it to be kind.

Jaskier’s tongue felt too big for his mouth as he said, “Thank you, Geralt.”

Geralt nodded. “It’s never something to be thanked for, helping someone else. I’m just glad I was home and you didn’t have to deal with that alone.” He paused, a flicker of a smile on his face. “Maybe when you’re feeling better, we can talk about dogs and that shelter. Ciri is never gonna let you have Dandelion alone on the weekends until she gets a dog.”

Lutz laughed and Jaskier chuckled, despite how it made his head pound. “I think I already like your daughter, Geralt, and I’ve not met her.” He gave Geralt an appraising look; not flirtatious, but an assessment. “Considering the kindness with which she is being raised, I’m not surprised.”

Geralt nodded at Lutz and turned to leave, but was stopped when Jaskier said, “Wait.” He turned and suddenly had an armful of the other man, who was clinging to him. “Now I am going to apologize,” he said in Geralt’s ear. “But apparently touch is my love language, so you’re stuck for a moment.”

Geralt snorted but wrapped his arms around Jaskier, careful not to squeeze the other man lest he cut off his air. Jaskier felt one hand splay flat on his shoulder blade, the other come to rest low on his spine. “You need anything, I’m right next door. Doesn’t matter the time. Okay?”

“Okay.” And Jaskier pulled away from Geralt’s warmth and let him go, watching until he gently closed the front door and disappeared into the twilight.

After a long moment, Lutz said, “All right. I’ll save my teasing for later but allow me this one thing.”

Jaskier let Lutz put an arm around him and guide him to the stairs. “Get it out of your system.”

Lutz grinned at him. “My god, is that an attractive man. A sin, truly, to be that handsome. No wonder you’ve got a crush.”

“Ugh, Raf, please.”

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

As they rounded the turn in the stairs, Dandelion following behind, Jaskier said, “No, you’re not. I hate that you’re not.”

* * *

“Please tell me you’re going to ask that glorious man on a date.”

Lutz had to yell to be heard over the shower and Jaskier grimaced. “I don’t think we’re quite there yet, you horny piece of shoe leather.”

“Ouch. That hurt.” But from his tone, it didn’t and Lutz found it rather hilarious that Jaskier was trying to insult him while in the shower. Naked and vulnerable. “Jaskier.  _ Julian _ . That is a sweet, caring…” Lutz sighed. “Oh so muscly hunk of man you need to climb yesterday.”

“Jesus, Lutz.” He’d done so well to not get carried away by Geralt’s looks - not counting the first time he saw him, of course - but the weight of Lutz’s words were burying deep in his psyche. Apparently some part of his brain, the horny and lonely bit, was just now registering Geralt in running clothes, sweat-soaked and gorgeous and holding him like none of that mattered. Like the only thing worth focusing on was him and what he needed.

“What? I have eyes, you know. I can appreciate a fine male form with the best of them. And Geralt is very pretty, and very kind. That’s a rare pairing.” Jaskier shut the water off and groped for the towel Lutz shoved behind the curtain. “Is he interested in men?”

Frowning, Jaskier wrapped the towel around his waist and stepped out, glancing at Lutz seated on his bed. “I...I don’t know. He knows I am -“

“Whoo, I would have  _ loved _ to be a fly on the wall during that conversation.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes so hard he swore he saw the inside of his own skull. “It’s not like I told him -“

“You like taking it up the ass?”

“Why do I put up with you?”

Lutz came closer, leaning against the doorframe, his gaze assessing. “You love me. That’s why.”

“I love nachos too, but I regret them the minute I eat them.”

Lutz launched forward and pulled Jaskier into a tight side hug, burying his face in Jaskier’s wet neck. “And there’s my friend back again. The oh so delightfully tart Julian Pankratz.” He pulled back, a frown on his handsome face. “He doesn’t know, does he?”

Jaskier shrugged, watching both their reflections in the slightly foggy mirror. “I honestly don’t know. He plays things pretty close to the vest. I don’t think Geralt’s the type to let some wealth sway him.”

“ _ Some wealth _ . You mean a massive family fortune, all of which you inherit at some point.” Lutz saw Jaskier’s grimace and gave him an apologetic pat on the shoulder. “You know what I mean, so you don’t have to say it.”

_ That I don’t want it or need it? That no money is worth my pride? Fuck my dad because he’s a spiteful piece of shit? _ “I know,” Jaskier said softly, leaning into Lutz’s embrace. “Honestly, I don’t need that stress right now, too.”

If Lutz thought to take the opening, he demurred. Probably saving it for later, when Jaskier wasn’t wet and mostly naked in a steamy bathroom, just now getting his head clear enough to focus on how his stomach was rumbling. He’d always been good about knowing what Jaskier needed without ever saying it out loud. “I know.” He turned Jaskier’s face with a gentle touch of fingertips. “Are you going to let me fuss over you tonight? Because there’s no way in hell I’m leaving you alone.”

Something in Lutz’s touch sparked in him, and Jaskier badly wanted to lean into it; to chase its warmth and familiarity. He and Rafael Lutz had been friends for over a decade. What had started as a failed blind date had led into a deeply fulfilling friendship that spanned every up and down, every good and bad piece of their recent lives. Lutz was a consummate flirt and as good with words as he was with numbers, but never once had he heard his friend brag about the men he dated. Rafael was also a notorious bachelor, never one to settle down when he had new places to travel to, new experiences to chase, and now a gallery to run.

He was one of three people to ever see Jaskier have a full-blown panic attack. The first thing out of Lutz’s mouth, upon watching the first time Jaskier slumped to the floor and go pale and cold, had been, “Tell me what you need, and I’ll knock the sky down to get it.”

The other two were Geralt and Valdo. And only one of those was worth the thoughts now swirling in Jaskier’s mind.

“Hey, I know that look,” Lutz said, his grip on Jaskier’s chin tightening only a little. “What is it?”

Jaskier was about to do something very stupid. “Would you hate me if I asked you to kiss me?”

Lutz froze, but he didn’t drop his hand. Bright hazel eyes drifted down to Jaskier’s mouth, where a few drops of water clung to his upper lip. “No, but I also don’t think you’re in the best frame of mind to be asking me such a thing.” He drew closer, other hand now resting on Jaskier’s hip. “You and I agreed a long time ago we were better friends. Especially after that truly awful first date.” Jaskier chuckled and Lutz laughed with him, sharing that memory between them. “But asking me this, now, after you had a panic attack...fuck, Julian, you know I’m a weak man. I’d give you anything you wanted, but I don’t know if you’d be okay with it in the morning.”

Lutz’s palm slid over his skin and Jaskier bit back a moan. It had been so long since he’d been touched in that way. “You’re right,” he managed to gasp out, twisting from Lutz’s grip and leaning over the bathroom counter. “You’re right. Fuck. Shit.”

“Hey, hey.” Then Lutz was by his side again, lending Jaskier his presence and scent. “It’s just me. You don’t need to fret so much. And I’ve got an idea. But you have to promise me if you feel one tiny ounce of discomfort or doubt, you tell me  _ immediately _ .” Now he grabbed Jaskier’s chin and forced him to meet his eyes. “Immediately.”

“Okay.”

“Good.” Lutz grinned. “Put on pants, no shirt, and come out to the bed when you’re done. I won’t peek, I swear.” He left Jaskier alone to get partially dressed while his mind whirled.

When Jaskier emerged in the bedroom wearing only loose sweatpants, he caught Lutz’s gaze flicker to where the pants clung to his hips before he got a wide grin. “Come on, come on.” His friend had removed his sweater and was left in a black V-neck undershirt and dark jeans and he was sitting on the edge of the bed, rolling something between his hands. A dark tuft of curly black chest hair spilled out over the neck of his shirt, and Jaskier could see the edge of his pectoral tattoo as Lutz shifted. “Now, I typically use this for every day toilette, but I have it on good authority it works well for massages, too.” He held out the bottle for Jaskier’s inspection.

He knew immediately what it was. Lutz was a scent-hound, always trying some new cologne or oil, and he usually had a bottle or two of the stuff with him at all times. This was a dark brown apothecary bottle with dropper but no label. There was only one place to get such things and he grinned. “Someone’s been to Triss’s, I see.”

“Yes, yes, now get over here.” Jaskier sat down beside him and waited for Lutz to continue. “So I know you’re not big on massages and the whole stranger touching you deal. Which I totally get. So I’d like to offer my services.” He poked Jaskier in the arm with a long, thin finger. “You’re wound tight, my friend. I can help.”

He narrowed his eyes at his friend. “Are you trained in massages?”

Lutz put a hand to his chest. “Now he questions me? I never. No one has complained yet.” The teasing note dropped from his voice. “And I’ll make you a deal. If you get through this without throwing me out, because it will hurt, then we can talk about other things.” He put his hand on Jaskier’s knee and squeezed. “What I think is bound up in your brain is that meaningful touching has to be sexual. And that all sexual touches have to be tied to emotions, good or bad. I think touch is a gift, shared between two people who trust each other. Not always, of course, but meaningful touch that’s close and intimate? Then yes.”

Jaskier heard what Lutz wasn’t saying. He heard the implication of,  _ And that fucker Valdo really screwed you up, thinking you had to earn another’s touch like a dog being given a treat for good behavior. _

So he just nodded and when his friend’s eyes lit up with hope, he wanted to cry.

Lutz had him lie on his stomach and put a pillow under his head, then waited for him to adjust until he was resting comfortably. “All good?” When Jaskier nodded, Lutz replied, “Excellent. Now, with the way your muscles are all knotted up, we won’t get it in one go. I’ll do what I can. But I need to sit on your legs to reach. Is that okay?”

“Yes.” Jaskier didn’t even hesitate.

“Good. And I'll tell you everything I’m doing.”

Jaskier lifted his head and craned his neck to look back. “You don’t have to, Raf.”

“And yet, I will.” And Jaskier let it drop.

Lutz carefully settled on the back of Jaskier’s thighs, instructing Jaskier to close his eyes and breathe deeply for a few moments while he oiled his hands.”Shoulders or lower back first?” he asked, rubbing his palms together brisky to warm up the oil.

Jaskier took a moment to assess the pain that always seemed to linger in the background. Today it was more of a stiffness; too long spent sitting in a desk chair at the office, not enough walking or stretching. He shrugged his shoulders up by his ears and grimaced. “Ouch.”

“Asked and answered.” The bed shifted under him and then a weight bore down on his thighs, just under his ass. He felt a brush of fabric on his lower back and then Lutz said, “I’ll go slow. Just warming the skin up with my palms.”

“Okay.”

“Good.”

That  _ good _ twisted something in Jaskier’s gut. Guilt. Hope. Longing. Yes, he loved his friend and would do anything for me. And he’d been so, so weak moments ago, asking for a kiss when he knew that was ground they probably shouldn’t tread. Lutz and he were not supposed to be like that. 

Jaskier burned with need for someone, anyone to touch him like he mattered. And when warm, smooth palms pressed gently into his shoulder blades, he couldn’t help the groan that escaped his lips. He froze, looking back at Lutz with wide eyes.

He got a poke in the temple for his troubles. “Down. Don’t worry about those little noises. I  _ am _ quite good at this and you are stupidly tight.” Jaskier put his face into the pillow, breathing in the soft scent of laundry detergent. Lutz hummed under his breath and pushed down again, the barest pressure on Jaskier’s shoulders.

They spent several minutes like that, Lutz touching him gently, rubbing circles into his tight muscles and coaxing them to warm up. Jaskier let his eyes close and as he focused on his breathing, he heard his friend say little endearments, encouraging him to relax even more. Jaskier could feel himself drifting, his body thrumming under Lutz’s careful ministrations while his mind started to go fuzzy at the edges. It wasn’t anything like the claustrophobic tunnel vision of his panic attacks. This was soothing and easy and he could tell he was getting sleepy. 

Eventually Lutz moved his hands down - with Jaskier’s permission - and his fingertips skated near Jaskier’s spine while he searched for more knots. He gave a hiss of sympathy when he found one close to Jaskier’s lower back. “That chair needs to burn in a fire,” he said with an oddly fierce note in his voice. “Jas, we need to get you a better desk chair, this is awful. You’re in pain every day, aren’t you?”

Jaskier gave a muffled “Yes” and then groaned when Lutz pressed on the angry knot. It hurt, but it also felt so good and he fought back a demand for more. He’d already made a fool of himself once, no need to overdo it. “I can hear you thinking,” Lutz said, his voice very close to Jaskier’s ear. “Stop. Relax. Let go.”

_ He could do this. He could let himself float. He could. _

Jaskier nestled into the pillow, his fingers wrapped around the blanket, and let himself be taken care of.

* * *

Geralt was sitting outside on the front porch, hands cupping a steaming mug of tea, when he saw Jaskier’s friend step out the door and sit down heavily on the stairs, dropping his head into his hands.

He frowned. Lutz looked tired, which made sense given what had transpired only a few hours ago. Geralt wouldn’t be able to sleep for fear of seeing Jaskier’s pale, drawn face, his lips trembling. It had  _ hurt _ to see the other man break down like that and Geralt was worried. He remained worried even though he knew Lutz was taking care of Jaskier. The number of times since it happened that he wanted to go over and check on his neighbor…

_ His friend _ .

Was that foolish? Shortsighted? Naive? To think of someone he’d only known for a few weeks as a friend, and then to admit it to himself in such a blase way…. _ shit. _

“Geralt.”

He looked up and saw Lutz raise a hand in greeting as he walked over the invisible line between the properties. “First of all, he’s okay. Asleep, finally. I’m going to stay overnight to be sure. Wanted you to know.”

Geralt nodded. “Thank you. I talked myself out of coming back over more than a few times. I’ll sleep better knowing he’s got a friend with him.”

Lutz gave him a curious look, eyes bright like a bird watching something interesting from up high on a tree branch. “Yes, well, I would have come in too late to assist if you hadn’t called me. That was quick thinking, and I’m rather appreciative.” Geralt noticed how rumpled the man’s sweater was as Lutz crossed his arms against the chill in the air. “And then this is the part where I get to both assure you and mildly threaten you at the same time. So bear with me.” He motioned to the stairs Geralt was sitting on. “May I?”

Not sure where this was going, Geralt moved over and waited for Lutz to sit down before he said, “Assure and  _ mildly _ threaten me?”

Lutz wagged a finger at him. “Wipe that smirk off your face, mister. You might be big and handsome but I’m that man’s best friend. So yes, both, since it pleases me.” And then his expression dropped all teasing pretense and went very,  _ very _ serious. “Jaskier is, as I’m sure you’re already rather aware, quite special. He would go out of his way to help a complete stranger in need, but he never asks for help himself.” Hazel eyes scanned him up and down in a clinical fashion. “Which I suspect you can relate to. So I’ll make this short. Jas and I met because we were set up on a blind date with each other. I know, I know. But there was no chemistry romantically, but we fell into a friendship rather quickly. I have seen him at his very best and very worst and everything in between, and he’s seen it on my end, too. I love that man. I would rip the sun out of the sky for him.” 

Lutz took a deep breath, turning toward Geralt as he continued. “But he is lonely. And sad more often than he cares to admit. You two moving in next door? Gods, the way he lit up when he talked about Ciri meeting Dandelion for the first time and when he blabbed about his ex to you about two days after you’d met. He blushes endearingly but I could tell he was excited.” He leaned in, that serious gaze penetrating Geralt’s hard outer shell, aiming right for his heart. “He’s already rather fond of you two. So if you intend to keep him at arm’s length, tell him now. Don’t toy with him. Because he is a beautiful soul and he’s been through enough.”

“I won’t.” The response fell so quickly out of Geralt’s mouth that he felt the cringe build up on his face before it landed there. “I like Jaskier. Ciri likes Jaskier. Adores Dandelion.” He chuckled and rubbed nervously at the back of his neck. “Anyone ever tell you you’re terrifying?”

“Only all the time. It’s usually bound up with ‘oh, you charmer, but you are a bit scary’.

Geralt gave him a crooked smile. “That feels about right. Figures Jaskier would have someone like you in his corner.”

Lutz raised an eyebrow. “Meaning?”

“Someone not afraid to fight for him.”

“Ah, understood. Very perceptive of you, Geralt.”

Geralt blew out a breath and looked up. “I’ve never met anyone like him before, you know? He’s got something about him.”

“He tends to draw people to him, but it’s in a quiet way.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” He glanced over at Lutz. “But that’s hurt him before. I won’t ask, it’s not my place. But I can see it.” Geralt motioned to Jaskier’s house. “Is that what tonight was about?”

Lutz squeezed his hands into fists and balled them on his knees. “If I had to guess, yes. He hasn’t said, and I wasn’t going to ask tonight. He needs care and sleep.”

“Yeah.” 

They were quiet together for several long moments, until Lutz said, “How you handled him tonight? How did you know that?”

Geralt weighed his words on a scale of telling too much, and decided it didn’t matter. “A bad combination of PTSD, nightmares, and anxiety. Coming back from the warfront was hell, and it took forever to find someone who knew how to help. I’ve taught other people that little bit and it seems to...I don’t know, resettle them? Ground them? I was hoping it would help Jaskier.”

“It did.”

“Good. I’m glad. So, since we’re talking about it…” He paused, trying to figure out the formula to his next sentence. “My buddy Lambert bumped into Jaskier tonight, before he came home. He texted a while back, worried he’d said something wrong.”

“How so?”

Geralt explained how their encounter went down by reading Lambert’s texts (which were profanity filled and laced with worry at the same time) and the moment he said  _ Marx _ , Lutz growled. 

Actually growled, like an angry bear or dog. 

Nostrils flared, pupils narrowed to pinpricks, Lutz stood quickly and stomped off. The epitome of spitting mad; except he would never actually spit. Geralt watched him, fascinated. It was a bit like being caught in a tempest and he could do nothing but be battered by it.

Lutz walked down the gravel drive, rolled his shoulders, and then unballed his fists, turning neatly on his heel to come back and retake his seat on the stairs. “Apologies. But  _ that name _ .”

Geralt had so many questions and yet only found room for one: “The ex?”

“The ex. Not Tannos, he’s barely out of high school.”

“I figured.”

“His cousin. But it’s a hair trigger and I  _ will kill him _ if he so much as comes near Jaskier.”

And Geralt believed him. Hells, he’d probably assist. At least point Lutz to a secluded spot at which to bury the body.

Then as quickly as he was hit with his anger, Geralt watched Lutz smooth down his hair, straighten his sweater, and give a grim smile. “Again, apologies. Pretend you never heard me say any of that.” With a sigh, Lutz stood up and waved Geralt off as he made to stand as well. “You’re fine. I don’t want to leave him alone too long. Thank you for hearing me out.”

Geralt chuckled, made uneasy only by the fact that Jaskier’s friend was truly a force of nature. “You mean letting you lightly threaten me?”

“ _ Mildly _ threaten. Mildly.” His eyes sparked with something mischievous. “Now, I won’t put my nose where it doesn’t belong but do keep this in mind. Jaskier is a good soul. I however, am not. And I am not above slander, petty lies, or outright blackmail if you so much as hurt one hair on that man’s beautiful head.”

Geralt wanted to look away but couldn’t. “You talk like we’re dating or something.”

“Or something.” Lutz leaned in, voice low, secretive. “He likes good food and good wine. He reads a lot. Loves dancing but won’t admit it. Prefers hiking in secluded locations to visiting tourist traps. And cries at sappy movies, so stick with drama or comedies. Nothing with crass humor, however, as that’s more my domain.”

It took Geralt a moment to fit the pieces into place and when the lightbulb went off, he grinned. “Got it.”

“You have nothing but a strange grouping of Jaskier’s interest I picked randomly to tell you about.”

“I have nothing.” But his grin grew.

Lutz snorted. “Oh, I like you. Smart on top of handsome and kind.” And with a slight wave, he ambled back to Jaskier’s house, closed the front door, and shut off the porch light.

Geralt stayed outside long past midnight, unable to wipe the smile off his face.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier and Lutz share a moment; Jaskier and Geralt talk about what happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Descriptions of gaslighting and a mentally and emotionally abusive relationship. All aboard the Valdo hate train. 
> 
> I recommend this song for this chapter: [Foo Fighters, "Home"](https://open.spotify.com/track/2fDVMNQmFuMORDD3dP7GkN?si=k3l8JECRQKuYdv53AML_Cg)
> 
> There is an explicit version of the fade-to-black scene found within (Chapter 7/Explicit Scene), so know what you're getting into before you go off and read that. Explicit scene [HERE](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29311026/chapters/72340287)
> 
> EDIT to add: you commenters and subscribers are being total babes. If anyone's in the Geraskier Discord, say hi! Or just say hi on Discord in general, I'm Halli#5283 and I'm the GM for [Terrible Party on Twitch](https://www.twitch.tv/terrible_party)
> 
> I also write original fiction (vampires and polyamory and horror, my loves), tabletop roleplaying modules, and a ton more over on Patreon! Get a thank you gift for signing up, my first D&D 5e module, "The Necromancer's Regret". [Patreon page](https://www.patreon.com/hallithedm?fan_landing=true)

When Jaskier awoke, his brain felt foggy and his mouth tasted horrible. With a grimace, he stretched, expecting the pull of his back and shoulder muscles. When he found the pain muted, allowing him more movement than usual in the mornings, he flopped onto his back and grinned.

“You’re welcome, you clod.”

Jaskier didn’t even blink at Lutz’s voice coming from near his right shoulder. “I knew you were there, Raf.”

“Don’t lie. It’s too early for lies.” Lutz struggled to sit up, eventually leaning heavily on his elbow as he looked down at Jaskier. “Good morning to you too.”

Jaskier dug the heels of his palms into his eyes, feeling the grit crusted in their corners. “Ugh, yes. Good morning.”

“I believe I still haven’t heard _Thank you, Lutz, for being such a good friend and staying the night and giving up your very expensive mattress at home for this shitty one I sleep on_ -”

Jaskier nailed him in the face with a pillow and let out a bark of laughter as Lutz threw one back. Dandelion, who slept at the foot of the bed, rose up from her own space to cock her head in confusion. “Ow, okay, okay!” Jaskier put his hands up to block the next blow. “Geez. Dandi, it’s all right.”

“You started it.” Lutz put on a convincing pout but Jaskier knew better. “Anyways, I need to pee, your dog probably needs to pee, and this is all too domestic for my taste.”

He knew Lutz was teasing, but it made the memory of last night, and what he asked of his friend, to come rolling back like a runaway truck down a steep hill. Jaskier sat down hard on the edge of the bed, clutching a pillow until his knuckles turned white. 

“Oh we will talk about that once I’m back,” Lutz warned before shutting the bathroom door.

Jaskier rose with a sigh and followed Dandelion out to the patio door. Per their usual routine, she shoved her face in the tiniest crack as he slid it open, then squeezed through to do her morning run in the backyard. Going through the motions of making coffee and wiping down the counter calmed him a little, enough that he noticed Lutz was gone far longer than it took for a morning constitutional. 

He poked his head down the hallway and saw through his open bedroom door that Lutz was quickly scrolling through his phone and rapid fire texting. “Coffee?” he called, and Lutz nodded.

Jaskier added more water to the tank, let Dandelion back in, and hit the power button just as Lutz came into the kitchen. The other man slid onto a barstool with far more grace and poise than someone in the previous night’s clothes had any right to. “Be still my heart, you house husband,” he teased.

Jaskier scoffed, but he was smiling too. “Ugh.”

“What? I can appreciate the sight of a man barely dressed making coffee. Even if that man is my best friend.”

Jaskier tossed him a banana, laughing. “You’re horrible.”

“I know.” He held the banana up. “Really?”

“What?”

“My god, Julian. A _banana_. The most phallic of foods! And you give this to me, a very gay man, after I rubbed your nubile body down with oil the night before.”

Jaskier gave another snort, which quickly rolled into peals of laughter. So much so that he had to lean against the counter lest he fall over. Lutz joined him, and soon they were crying with laughter. “So does this mean we’re engaged?” Jaskier managed to spit out between snickers as he wiped his eyes with the back of a hand.

“It clearly means something. Probably that we’re long overdue to hit Piranha so we can watch the pretty young things rip their shirts off and rub up against each other.” Lutz pulled his glasses away from his face and cleaned tears off the lenses with the hem of his sweater. “Dear god, you monster.”

“I’m not the thirty-two year old man perving on college boys.”

Glasses back on, Lutz batted his eyelashes before peeling the banana. “I could be a very good sugar daddy to someone. And how is it perving if they’re under a decade younger than me?”

Jaskier rolled his eyes and set about pouring coffee for them both, eventually handing a steaming mug to his friend, who accepted it with a grateful nod. He settled on the stool across from Lutz and waited until Lutz had several sips. “So, last night.”

“And here we are.” Lutz put his cup down and steepled his fingers under his chin. “I refuse to accept any apology. Allow me to say that upfront.” And then much to Jaskier’s surprise, his friend flushed and looked away. “I uh...shit, Julian. It’s far too early on a Saturday for me to say anything that sounds like this but, I couldn’t sleep last night and I went over this again and again in my head.” 

Leaving his coffee behind, Lutz pulled Jaskier to his feet, holding onto his hands. “You are my dearest friend. You’re the person I call when there’s good news or bad. We have shared so much, been through so much shit together.” His gaze flicked away, his brows drawing down as he said, “And I also know what you asked for last night wasn’t born completely out of desperation or pain.” He cupped Jaskier’s jaw with a gentle palm, watching his friend’s eyes darken at the contact. “And I know you would fall on your knees and grovel for my forgiveness, but there is nothing to forgive. Do not beat yourself up, all right?” When Jaskier nodded mutely, he smiled. “You’re a pain in the ass, but you’re my pain in the ass. And I would be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about it before.” 

Jaskier’s breath caught. What was he saying? He loved Raf, but it wasn’t like _that_. But he did crave something intimate, with someone he trusted. 

Could you do such things with your best friend without ruining what you’d built over years? 

“I have thought about it. And then I instantly knew that I didn’t want either of us to regret something. So here’s what I propose.” Lutz tightened his grip on Jaskier’s hands. “I’m going to kiss you. Like I told you last night, touch doesn’t have to be sexual to be intimate. But sex _can_ be healing. There’s some part of you that isn't healed, not where it needs to be for you to try to start again. If that’s what you want. Sex is sex. Everything else that gets involved doesn’t have to be there in order for it to be fulfilling.”

Jaskier frowned. “I don’t know what you’re saying.”

Lutz wrapped his left arm around Jaskier’s chest, pulling his warmth close. Pulling that bare chest close to his clothed one. “I’m saying that after a lot of thinking and very little sleep, I realized that you need someone to touch you the way you want without putting any demands on you. That intimacy and sex are never cut and dried.” Lutz swallowed hard, watching Jaskier track the bob of his throat. “Bedding you wouldn’t exactly be a hardship, darling. We’d both have our needs met and then not let it affect our friendship. Not many people can do that. And besides, you’ve a handsome neighbor to flirt with, but you won’t maybe shove your hands in his pants on a first date out of desperation to warm your cock.”

Jaskier blinked. “You ….you’re serious.”

“I am. I think there is one person in this entire stinking world I could trust to know what I mean and know that I’m quite serious about using my magical hands to heal them.” He tapped Jaskier’s bottom lip with a finger. “I’m also getting ahead of myself. We should probably see if we slobber on each other first.”

The laugh that fell out of Jaskier’s mouth was more of a huff of indignation. “I don’t think either of us are capable of slobbering during a kiss.”

“Oh really? I seem to recall that exact thing happening about a decade ago.”

Uh oh. Jaskier knew that look but it had only ever been playfully aimed at him from those hazel eyes. Now it carried heat, the kind he’d observed steal over Raf’s face as he found a particularly comely man at a bar or club. 

He was rather proud that his hands didn’t shake as he brushed Lutz’s hair back from his face. Lutz sighed into the touch, but that impish grin was still there. “Come here,” he said, pulling Lutz even closer.

“Is that a yes? I need explicit consent, Jaskier.”

“Yes.”

“And if you want to stop, or I do?”

“Then we say so.”

“Hmmm, I do so love a man who can take direction.” Lutz closed the last precious few inches between them and pressed his mouth to Jaskier’s. Jaskier melted on the spot, nearly toppling them both save for his friend’s steady hands holding them up. 

It was Lutz, which meant the kiss was comforting and soft, but not aching with lust or desire. It pulled him into shore, a towline of safety and trust wound around both of them in a way that made Jaskier tremble. He leaned in, unsure of what to do with his hands.

_Where did you touch your best friend while he’s kissing you?_

“Here,” Lutz said, little mindreader that he was. He must have sensed Jaskier’s hesitance. Those hazel eyes met his and Lutz smiled softly. “Let me get rid of these, then you won’t be knocking your forehead into them or ruin my gorgeous frames.” 

“You’re so stupid,” Jaskier said, making Lutz scoff as he turned to set his glasses aside. But they were both smiling.

“Is this okay?” Lutz asked as he skimmed his fingertips air light down Jaskier’s spine, pulling up Jaskier’s right hand so it rested on his shoulder.

“Yes.” 

Lutz bumped his forehead against Jaskier’s. “Do you want to keep doing this?”

Jaskier let their lips briefly touch before murmuring, “Yes. Please. I need….gods, I just need someone to touch me like I matter.”

Lutz carded his fingers through Jaskier’s hair, massaging his scalp and making Jaskier hum in pleasure. “You’ve always mattered to me.” He pulled back, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head, Pankratz.”

_**There is an explicit version of this scene[HERE](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29311026/chapters/72340287). It is NOT required for the story, it is only an addition.  
  
** _

* * *

Was sex also supposed to be relaxing? Jaskier felt strangely loose and languid as he stared down at Lutz’s naked backside. His friend was facedown on the mattress, one foot hooked around Jaskier’s knee while the other kicked him in the thigh. “Are you going to stare or fuck me?”

“God, you’re mouthy,” Jaskier said as he shook loose from his stupor. “I’ve also never actually seen your ass before. Give me a minute.”

Growling, Lutz sat up and pulled him down. “And you’re insufferable. Thank god we’re better friends than lovers because you and I would be having the gayest of bitch fests every other day.” He surged into a blistering kiss, grabbing at any part of Jaskier he could reach, blunt nails digging in and making Jaskier hiss. Just as quickly, he yanked his head away and flung himself back down. “Now fuck me, or I’m going to lock you outside with that massive hard-on for all to see.”

* * *

“Don’t snore.”

“What? Never.”

“Raf.”

“Julian.” Lutz sat up and let the sheet pool around his waist. Jaskier lay on his back beside him, sweat slowly cooling on his chest and neck. He put a soothing hand on Jaskier’s arm. “Any regrets?”

“Not at all.” He grinned, all cheek. “Besides, I did most of the work.”

“Sometimes you need to sweat a little to have a revelation.”

“Or two.”

Lips twitching, Lutz rolled his eyes. “Cad. Does the first one even count? I barely touched you and you were coming like a teenager.”

Jaskier groaned pitifully and put a pillow over his face. “Just end me.”

“Sadly I cannot. I need my best friend.” Lutz gently pried the pillow away from Jaskier’s face, his grin dropping. “But truly? Let’s talk as friends but without all the dirty asides and jokes.”

Jaskier sat up and put his hands on Raf’s cheeks. “You are a lovely man, but I just don’t feel that way about you.”

“Nor I you, my darling Julian. You are my nearest and dearest, but we aren’t meant for something different.” He leaned in and kissed Jaskier’s forehead tenderly. “Though I admit to the _tiniest_ bit of jealousy at the next man who gets that marvel of a cock. And when that happens, you must tell me everything. I need to know if Geralt’s ass is as firm as it seems to be. As the old saying goes, you could bounce coins off that thing.” Lutz stretched and quickly went about getting dressed. Once he’d pulled on everything but his shoes, he turned and said, “But I do think one of those pacts, like every ten years if we’re both single we do this again kind of deals might go over well.”

“Deal.” 

As he laid back down, settling in for a post-coital nap, Lutz came to his side. “Seriously. Be honest. No regrets?”

“None.” Jaskier spoke true. It had been a good morning, but he didn’t feel some deeper emotional connection that would have him confessing love to his friend. “But what about you?”

“Not one bit.” And as Lutz looked down at him, Jaskier knew he wasn’t lying even a little. “You and I both got something out of it. My dear friend, I love you. I would fight the world for you. And apparently take your cock up my ass.”

Jaskier sputtered a laugh and Lutz grinned in response. “Go on, I know you’re itching to get on with your weekend.”

“I am, in fact.” He pressed another kiss to Jaskier’s forehead, and with a wink and a wave, was gone.

As he lay back in bed, Jaskier realized he truly didn’t regret what had just happened. Being touched by someone who cared that much went beyond the physical (and the physical was pretty great). He’d been cared _for_ , and it had been a very long time since that had happened. Jaskier closed his eyes and sighed. Plus he and Lutz had all but signed a contract in blood stating that if a decade from now they were both still single, they’d do it again.

His thoughts were interrupted by his phone vibrating. A text from Lutz read: _You didn’t tell me the neighbor had HOT friends! My gods, this dark haired man. Eskel, right? I think you told me that name. A god among men. Sorry, lover, but I’m afraid this is where I leave you. I’m gonna go climb him like a tree._

Jaskier laughed until his sides hurt.

* * *

As late afternoon rolled around and Jaskier was considering another movie to fall asleep in the middle of, his phone buzzed. A text from Geralt lit up the screen.

_Just wanted to check in. Hope you’re okay. Vesemir took Ciri overnight for early Sunday fishing trip. Not sure if you’re up for company but either way, please let me know you’re all right._

Jaskier’s heart clenched and he stared at the screen for a moment before typing a reply.

_I’m all right. Still tired, but awake and a bit bored. Come over, I’ll make tea. I should try to make up for the awful thing I put you through last night. No need to knock, just come in. We’re in the living room._

The answer popped up almost immediately:

_Be right over._

Jaskier looked down at his sweatpants and old t-shirt. When he and Valdo broke up, he’d been tempted to throw out every stitch of “proper” clothing and only ever wear sweatpants and t-shirts and hoodies, damn what other people thought. He remembered staring at his closet full of beautiful, tailored pants, collared shirts, and thick sweaters and hating every piece so much he wanted to take them into the yard and burn it all.

Valdo never let either of them appear “slovenly” in public. Which Jaskier had thought was a little romantic at first; even doing mundane things like meeting in the park or buying groceries was a mini date. And they turned heads when they went out, dressed in beautiful clothes and always immaculately groomed. But it slowly became a chore - no matter how short the trip, if you were leaving the house, you had to be made up. 

When Jaskier finally, finally told Lutz what had been going on for two years, his friend had crumpled under the weight of the confession. And it all came spilling out: the cheating, the emotional manipulation, denigrating Jaskier’s work to start a nonprofit when Valdo _was_ an artist, and a successful one at that.

“Real artists need no organization to help prop up their work, little lark,” Valdo had told him one time, as his hand snaked down Jaskier’s pants while they sat on the balcony of Valdo’s luxury apartment. “Real artists are successful because they give everything to their work. If an artist needs help, then they’re not trying hard enough. They should be willing to give everything - their time, their money, their love, hell, their sanity - to their art.”

Jaskier _knew_ that had been wrong. He _knew_ he was being used, being abused. And yet he stayed. Convinced no one would ever love him like Valdo did. Was _told_ no one would ever love him like the great Valdo Marx did. That it was a blessing bestowed upon him by one of the greatest musicians of their generation that he loved a commoner so.

He looked down at his sweatpants and old t-shirt and the dog drooling on his knee and only one thought came to mind. 

_I am more than him._

When Geralt knocked, then stuck his head in the door, Jaskier saw naked relief cross his face at the sight. “Was a little worried,” he muttered, stepping inside to the thump of Dandelion’s tail on the couch. “I know you said you were better but I still wanted to check.” And then of all things, he blushed. “See for myself, I guess.”

Jaskier was instantly charmed. Not like he hadn’t been before by Geralt and his adorable kid, but this was...softer. Quieter. “I’m here, and I’m alive and more steady than yesterday,” he said as he motioned Geralt forward. “Come, sit. I’m making tea, as promised.”

But Geralt only came to stand by the couch and look pointedly at the kitchen. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll make it.”

Jaskier frowned. That’s not what he said, right? He’d make the tea. He never asked Geralt to do it. Why would he….

_Because he cares._

It was like Lutz was in his ear, feeding that thought directly to his brain. Well, Jaskier cared, too. And after what had happened in the last twenty-four hours, after the two years with Valdo…

Something clicked. The lingering warmth of Raf’s fingers on his back, the way Geralt was looking at him now with no concern other than his well-being; it all made sense.

He got up from his seat, ignoring Dandelion’s soft grunt of complaint, and came to stand before Geralt. Without a word, he put his arms around the bigger man and enveloped him in a hug he desperately hoped conveyed everything he was feeling. He’d been given the gift of safety and steadiness and friendship, and he wanted to return it. 

Jaskier found himself pulled in by strong arms and pressed tightly against that same chest that had lent its strength and comfort last night. “I hope you know I’m here, whatever you need,” Geralt murmured in his ear, his breath stirring the hair at Jaskier’s temple. “You need to be kind to yourself.”

Jaskier swallowed hard. Geralt was right. Lutz was right. Jaskier didn’t know how to be selfish, but he wanted to not let go of Geralt just yet. Risking it, he pushed even closer, pressing their bodies together with no room to spare between them. 

The little sigh that escaped Geralt was so damn endearing, it made Jaskier nuzzle in. That same scent of clove and amber filled his senses and he was lost, buried in an ache so deep his very bones felt like they could crumble at any minute.

It was an accident that his lips brushed the side of Geralt’s neck and he froze. _Oh god. He’s going to push me away and that’ll be it._

“Jaskier.” Just his name on Geralt’s lips, sweet and tender and Jaskier knew it was coming. The rejection. The kick in the gut that would send him cowering into the corner, like a kid diving into a blanket fort to hide from a thunderstorm.

“I didn’t, I mean I -” Jaskier’s words tumbled over themselves and he quickly withdrew, already mourning the loss of Geralt’s body heat.

“Stop.” Those amber eyes were fixed on him. No flare of anger, no shove to push him away. Nothing Jaskier expected happened. Instead, Geralt smoothed his palms up Jaskier’s shoulders, withdrawing just enough to stare at him. “You do not need to apologize to me. Whatever this is between us, I like it.” He ducked his head, bringing his face closer. So close that Jaskier could see the flecks of deep brown in his eyes and the dull white of the scar through his eyebrow. There were silver threads in his white hair, giving it a hypnotic shine and Jaskier itched to touch.

He held back on his temptation but he did say, “You do?”

Geralt gave him a sheepish smile. “Yeah. I do. Seems crazy, doesn’t it? Like a bad movie or something.” 

The incredulity in his tone made Jaskier grin. “Written by people who don’t know what attraction really looks like?”

“You are?” Geralt blinked at him, his brows dropping into a furrow.

“What?”

“Attracted to me?”

Jaskier’s eyes went wide. “Holy shit man, have you looked in a mirror lately? Trite as that sounds, I’m not kidding. You are stunning. I don’t know how you aren’t beating admirers off with a stick.”

Geralt snorted and Jaskier realized he liked that little noise very much. He would be okay getting an adorable snort from Geralt every now and then. “Says the man with steel blue eyes.”

Jaskier leaned into the moment, torn between wanting to close the distance between them and feel those lips on his and continue his teasing. But was it teasing if it was true? Because Jaskier meant every word. “We’re talking about you, Geralt. Don’t ruin my moment to lavish compliments on you.” But his face burned under Geralt’s raw flattery.

Two spots of pink appeared on Geralt’s cheeks and a flush was beginning near his collarbone. Fuck, that was endearing. “I uh….shit.” And he leaned down just enough to press his forehead to Jaskier’s. “I don’t know what to do here. I haven’t done anything remotely - fuck, I don’t know, romantic? Date-like? In a long damn time.”

Jaskier closed his eyes, reveling in the strong fingers pressing more against his shoulder blades. “Who says you have to do anything? _You_ dictate what you want, Geralt.”

Another snort. “Rich, coming from you.”

Jaskier laughed. “Yeah, well. I’m shit at this, too.”

And Geralt pulled back again, but this time he moved his right hand away from Jaskier’s back so he could thumb at Jaskier’s bottom lip. “I don’t do casual. Especially not with the kid. She’s my priority.”

Jaskier wanted to melt into the floor. “That is incredibly attractive.”

Geralt tossed his head. “Never heard that before. Usually people go running when they find out you have a kid.”

“That is no _kid_. That is Ciri, and she’s one of a kind.”

Geralt groaned, pressed his thumb harder into Jaskier’s lip. “You’re breaking my restraint here.”

Jaskier could feel the tether between them, how it stretched to its breaking point. How he wanted it to snap so he could launch himself at Geralt and kiss him the way he’d been wanting to since they’d met. But the timing felt wrong. The strange mix of familiarity and newness, the struggles they were both trying to deal with…

What if they got in their own way and ruined something that could have been amazing?

“One kiss,” he managed to say, his eyes locked on Geralt. “One kiss, and then we agree that if we want to do it again, we have to get to know each other better. Go to a park, have tea, talk. Anything.” He gave Geralt a crooked smile. “I’m too old to do casual, and I’ve no interest in bars or clubs. I’ve been alone a long time, nursing an obliterated heart and trying to piece my self-esteem back together.” Jaskier gave in to the desire to _touch_ , to _feel_. To know the burn of stubble against his palm, the architecture of that square jaw.

As soon as his fingers touched the hinge of Geralt’s jaw, Geralt surged forward with a groan and kissed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To assuage anyone's worries, Jaskier and Lutz won't become a "thing". Jaskier is fully on rails to go get Geralt, and Lutz will soon have an admirer of his own.


	7. Explicit scene for Chapter 6 (optional read)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Explicit version of the fade-to-black scene in Chapter 6 between Jaskier and Lutz. May not be for everyone, but if you're here, you now know what you're getting into.

Jaskier rolled his eyes and set about pouring coffee for them both, eventually handing a steaming mug to his friend, who accepted it with a grateful nod. He settled on the stool across from Lutz and waited until Lutz had several sips. “So, last night.”

“And here we are.” Lutz put his cup down and steepled his fingers under his chin. “I refuse to accept any apology. Allow me to say that upfront.” And then much to Jaskier’s surprise, his friend flushed and looked away. “I uh...shit, Julian. It’s far too early on a Saturday for me to say anything that sounds like this but, I couldn’t sleep last night and I went over this again and again in my head.” 

Leaving his coffee behind, Lutz pulled Jaskier to his feet, holding onto his hands. “You are my dearest friend. You’re the person I call when there’s good news or bad. We have shared so much, been through so much shit together.” His gaze flicked away, his brows drawing down as he said, “And I also know what you asked for last night wasn’t born completely out of desperation or pain.” He cupped Jaskier’s jaw with a gentle palm, watching his friend’s eyes darken at the contact. “And I know you would fall on your knees and grovel for my forgiveness, but there is nothing to forgive. Do not beat yourself up, all right?” When Jaskier nodded mutely, he smiled. “You’re a pain in the ass, but you’re my pain in the ass. And I would be lying if I hadn’t thought about it before.” 

Jaskier’s breath caught. What was he saying? He loved Raf, but it wasn’t like _that_. But he did crave something intimate, with someone he trusted. 

Could you do such things with your best friend without ruining what you’d built over years? 

“I have thought about it. And then I instantly knew that I didn’t want either of us to regret something. So here’s what I propose.” Lutz tightened his grip on Jaskier’s hands. “I’m going to kiss you. Like I told you last night, touch doesn’t have to be sexual to be intimate. But sex _can_ be healing. There’s some part of you that isn't healed, not where it needs to be for you to try to start again. If that’s what you want. Sex is sex. Everything else that gets involved doesn’t have to be there in order for it to be fulfilling.”

Jaskier frowned. “I don’t know what you’re saying.”

Lutz wrapped his left arm around Jaskier’s chest, pulling his warmth close. Pulling that bare chest close to his clothed one. “I’m saying that after a lot of thinking and very little sleep, I realized that you need someone to touch you the way you want without putting any demands on you. That intimacy and sex are never cut and dried.” Lutz swallowed hard, watching Jaskier track the bob of his throat. “Bedding you wouldn’t exactly be a hardship, darling. We’d both have our needs met and then not let it affect how friendship. Not many people can do that. And besides, you’ve a handsome neighbor to flirt with, but you won’t maybe shove your hands in his pants on a first date out of desperation to warm your cock.”

Jaskier blinked. “You ….you’re serious.”

“I am. I think there is one person in this entire stinking world I could trust to know what I mean and know that I’m quite serious about using my magical hands to heal them.” He tapped Jaskier’s bottom lip with a finger. “I’m also getting ahead of myself. We should probably see if we slobber on each other first.”

The laugh that fell out of Jaskier’s mouth was more of a huff of indignation. “I don’t think either of us are capable of slobbering during a kiss.”

“Oh really? I seem to recall that exact thing happening about a decade ago.”

Uh oh. Jaskier knew that look but it had only ever been playfully aimed at him from those hazel eyes. Now it carried heat, the kind he’d observed steal over Raf’s face as he found a particularly comely man at a bar or club. 

He was rather proud that his hands didn’t shake as he brushed Lutz’s hair back from his face. Lutz sighed into the touch, but that impish grin was still there. “Come here,” he said, pulling Lutz even closer.

“Is that a yes? I need explicit consent, Jaskier.”

“Yes.”

“And if you want to stop, or I do?”

“Then we say so.”

“Hmmm, I do so love a man who can take direction.” Lutz closed the last precious few inches between them and pressed his mouth to Jaskier’s. Jaskier melted on the spot, nearly toppling them both save for his friend’s steady hands holding them up. 

It was Lutz, which meant the kiss was comforting and soft, but not aching with lust or desire. It pulled him into shore, a towline of safety and trust wound around both of them in a way that made Jaskier tremble. He leaned in, unsure of what to do with his hands.

_Where did you touch your best friend while he’s kissing you?_

“Here,” Lutz said, little mindreader that he was. He must have sensed Jaskier’s hesitance. Those hazel eyes met his and Lutz smiled softly. “Let me get rid of these, then you won’t be knocking your forehead into them or ruin my gorgeous frames.” 

“You’re so stupid,” Jaskier said, making Lutz scoff as he turned to set his glasses aside. But they were both smiling.

“Is this okay?” Lutz asked as he skimmed his fingertips air light down Jaskier’s spine, pulling up Jaskier’s right hand so it rested on his shoulder.

“Yes.” 

Lutz bumped his forehead against Jaskier’s. “Do you want to keep doing this?”

Jaskier let their lips briefly touch before murmuring, “Yes. Please. I need….gods, I just need someone to touch me like I matter.”

Lutz carded his fingers through Jaskier’s hair, massaging his scalp and making Jaskier hum in pleasure. “You’ve always mattered to me.” He pulled back, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head, Pankratz.” 

They stayed like that, standing in the kitchen, learning each other’s lips with gentle affection. Letting Raf lead was the easiest thing to do - lean in and be kissed. And Raf seemed perfectly content to do just that.

Except he started talking and Jaskier’s defenses were never strong enough to withstand kind, sweet words from someone he loved. And he knew Raf meant every syllable. “You’re so soft,” Lutz purred, brushing his lips over Jaskier’s, fingers toying with the hair at his nape. “So sweet.”

He was _not_ willing to let out a whimper at the way those words hit him. “Is this your version of sweet talk?”

Raf pulled back, gaze teasing but something skirted along its edges. Inviting. Open. “I save my dirty talk for people who _aren’t_ my best friend.”

Jaskier laughed, brought his hands up to frame Raf’s face. “I need you to kiss me.”

“I just did.”

“Again.” Jaskier looked away, swallowing hard against the sudden tempest of need in him. It wasn’t lust or desire; it was an ache. A bone-deep, soul-rattling ache to be touched by someone who wanted nothing from him except his pleasure. Lutz had already done that, his hands and fingers strong and smooth as they worked on Jaskier’s back and shoulders. But Jaskier was greedy and needed more.

It was a crutch of his, needing to be touched when he felt at his worst. But for the first time in a long, long while, he felt safe. And if he was going to wipe away all the memories of Valdo, he needed to start somewhere.

Raf smiled, those hazel eyes glinting in the mid-morning sun. “Are you sure?”

Jaskier nodded, head feeling too heavy for his neck. “Yes.”

“Hmmm,” Raf hummed in his ear, stroking his temple with such gentleness Jaskier canted forward, pressing Raf into the kitchen island. “You do beg so sweetly, I suppose I have to give in.”

Jaskier dove for him and now Raf kissed him, the slick, hot, wanton slide of those lips buckling him at the knees, making him press Raf even more into the counter. The edge of the granite bit into his palms as he leaned in, slotting their hips together. 

And Raf groaned at the contact.

That sound - so unselfconscious, so honest - shook something loose inside him. Jaskier slid a knee between Raf’s thighs, which parted willingly. He pressed his knee higher, brushing the bottom edge of a very promising erection. “Oh _god_ . _Fuck_ .” Raf bit out the words like they hurt to speak aloud and he started to clutch at Jaskier’s bare back with insistent fingers. “Jas - _Julian_.”

“Thought about me like this, have you?” Jaskier nipped at his jaw. “Maybe once or twice?”

“ _Fuck_.” Fingers trembling, Raf drew Jaskier’s face away from his neck. “I thought this was about me being good to you. Giving you affection.” 

And that old specter of embarrassment and procession of _notgoodenough notgoodenough_ smacked Jaskier squarely upside the head. “I need to give it, too,” he said softly, looking away. “I got swept up, I shouldn’t have -“

Raf cut him off with a kiss. “We have an agreement,” he murmured, lips soft once again, hands soothing. “If you need to give, I can take it.” He tipped Jaskier’s chin up until their eyes met. “You are not a burden. I was just…” He huffed, stirring Jaskier’s hair with his breath. “I get plenty of action and yet my body clearly found your knee against my balls rather delightful. I had to rein myself back in, remember why we’re doing this. Or….”

Jaskier’s eyes narrowed, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Or?”

And of all things, Raf flushed, but he was grinning. “Gods damn you. Or I was going to throw you against your kitchen table and suck you off. Which would have been great for you, because my mouth is heaven according to every single person who has ever experienced it. But then I would have been left with a raging hard on and been spiteful and hateful the rest of the day.”

Jaskier burst out laughing and Raf joined him, the two of them holding each other up against the kitchen counter. As the laughter died down, Raf ran his hands over Jaskier’s arms, the motion sweeping and fluid, from shoulder to elbow and back up. “Come on then,” he said encouragingly, taking one of Jaskier’s hands and pulling him upstairs.

* * *

Jaskier reclined on his bed and watched Raf strip down to his boxers. Lutz was built like a runner, all lean muscle and sinew and glowing olive skin. Dark hair thoroughly mussed from Jaskier’s fingers, Raf already looked wrecked and he felt a flush of pride. 

Raf climbed onto the bed, coming to rest on his knees between Jaskier’s. “I know you said you need someone to touch you like you matter,” he said, gaze soft as he stared down at Jaskier. “You know what I’ll say to that.” Raf waited for Jaskier to nod before continuing. “So I’ll make this easy. I want you to lie back and let me handle the manhandling. You can touch, you can kiss, you lick any part of me you want. ” Long fingers slipped over the arch of Jaskier’s hip, dipping into the waistband of his sweatpants. Jaskier bit his lip to keep from chasing that touch. “But when you’re ready, you decide. I’m typically a bit of a bossy bottom but for you…..anything. But no marks on either of us. That’s my one rule.”

Jaskier’s breath caught in his throat as he stared at the darkness creeping in around Lutz’s eyes. It was a heady, weighted bit of shadow that made him shiver. He knew Raf’s charm and looks were what caught others’ attentions but the way he was staring down at Jaskier now showed him another side of his friend. He was a butterfly pinned to a board by that stare, helpless beneath what lingered on its edges.

He swallowed hard, found his voice. “Yes. Okay.”

“Good. And if it’s too much, or you want to stop?”

“I say so.”

“Even better.” That purr was back in Raf’s voice and those fingers pulled at his sweatpants, the elastic stretching over his hip as the material was eased down. The touch was delicate, gossamer and silk on his skin, and Jaskier bit back a groan. “You let me hear that, dearest,” Raf said, eyes hot on him. “No hiding. You’ve done enough of that for two lifetimes.” Raf was on him, hands eager, lips at his ear. “Do you want to tremble for me?”

Jaskier sucked in a breath, thrusting up against Raf’s lean frame. “Do you do this to everyone you take to bed?” he managed to gasp out, tossing his head back and to the right as a warm mouth found his jaw.

“Unmake them?” Raf shook his head, letting Jaskier feel his hair brush soft, almost down like, against the skin of his collarbone. “No.” He glanced up, eyes bleeding dark again at the edges. “Only for people I care deeply about.”

Jaskier hummed a moan as Raf licked and mouthed along his shoulder. He gripped where he could, hands finding Raf’s arms and sides, driving their bodies closer together. Somewhere in the back of his mind he registered how these touches were skirting edges. His friend was being both kind and slightly possessive, and Jaskier could feel his spine uncoiling, loosening with every single brush of fingers or lips. He could have lain there and let Raf tend to him in that patient, singular-focused way his friend had.

But it was lust burning in his veins that made Jaskier topple Raf underneath him so he could admire the sheen of sweat on that lean chest. He licked up Raf’s sternum, earning him a hiss and the clutch of greedy fingers in his hair. “Part of you needing to give?” Raf gasped.

“Objections?”

“None at all.” And Raf pulled him into an open-mouthed kiss.

* * *

Was sex also supposed to be relaxing? Jaskier felt strangely loose and languid as he stared down at Lutz’s naked backside. His friend was facedown on the mattress, one foot hooked around Jaskier’s knee while the other kicked him in the thigh. “Are you going to stare or fuck me?”

“God, you’re mouthy,” Jaskier said as he shook loose from his stupor. “I’ve also never actually seen your ass before. Give me a minute.”  
  
Growling, Lutz sat up and pulled him down. “And you’re insufferable. Thank god we’re better friends than lovers because you and I would be having the gayest of bitch fests every other day.” He surged into a blistering kiss, grabbing at any part of Jaskier he could reach, blunt nails digging in and making Jaskier hiss. Just as quickly, he yanked his head away and flung himself back down. “Now fuck me, or I’m going to lock you outside with that massive hard-on for all to see.”

Jaskier snickered but pressed his groin against the pert globes of Raf’s ass and got exactly the reaction he was hoping for. “Is this….are you….?”

The look Raf shot him could have murdered a dozen men. “You really need me to go into details? I’m a lot of things, Jask, but masochist is not on that list.” The air between them suddenly turned scorching. “Though you would look _very_ good in black satin. Tell Geralt I said so.”

Jaskier didn’t even have it in him to groan or roll his eyes. The kissing, the touching, even the nudity was all within certain bounds of comfort, though it was certainly one of the stranger situations he’d ever been in. “Do you want me to prep you?”

Lutz didn’t even hesitate. He nodded quickly, thrust his ass back at Jaskier. “Yes. Please. But only if you’re okay with that -“

Jaskier ran his palm down the right globe of Raf’s ass, making the other man hiss and press his forehead into a pillow. It took him three tries to pull the little bottle of lube from the nightstand, giving Raf a poke in the side when his friend chuckled at him like the entire tableau was somehow hilarious.

“Bastard,” Jaskier said affectionately as he looped an arm around Raf’s waist, hand brushing over heaving ribs, and pressed his forehead into the middle of that warm, smooth back. 

“Well, come on.” But the words were being spoken through gritted teeth, and he could feel the pounding of Raf’s heart under his hand. “You don’t have to be gentle.”

“Raf.” Jaskier dipped his fingers down, feeling blindly until he brushed over that spot, making Raf gasp. “I want to. You’ve been gentle with me.”

“Well, friends don’t fuck without a bit of - _fucking FUCK_ !” Raf cursed and threw his head back as Jaskier pressed in with only the tip of his finger. Jaskier could feel Raf tremble beneath him, rolling waves of shivers that were slowly, steadily building into a full body shudder. “Fuck. Oh you’re going to ruin me with those _fucking hands of yours you piece of shit motherfucker_.” 

Raf’s voice was torn between desire and laughter and Jaskier got caught up in the lilt of it, how it ebbed and flowed as he slowly, painstakingly worked Raf’s body with that single finger. Now Raf hung his head and moaned, thrusting back just as Jaskier worked in to the second knuckle, biting back a swear or four of his own at the dark heat that accepted him so readily. “Oh, Raf.” It was all he could say, all he could manage under the thunderbeat of his own heart or the swell of emotions threatening to choke him completely.

Raf fumbled behind him, seeking anything he could touch; when he managed to grab the crook of Jaskier’s arm, he clung to it, nails biting in. “Another,” he whispered.

Jaskier could have stayed like that, slowly sinking his fingers into Raf’s body, letting himself grow dizzy and panting under the tidal wave of everything passing between them. There was absolutely no one else who would do this for him. Someone who would give and give and give until Jaskier was full up on love and devotion, and then, like a vessel waiting to be full to brimming, accept every bit of what he could offer in return. 

Jaskier paid attention to every bit-off groan, every hum of pleasure. Raf began to keen, thighs quivering, when Jaskier pressed in just a little more. He managed to make Raf gasp twice more before the other man was clawing at him in desperation. “Bossy bottom,” Raf said, panting, giving Jaskier a wicked grin over his shoulder. “Now fuck me, or go away.”

“Fine, fine.” Said like he was taking out the trash or some other mundane task, Jaskier shifted until he could palm Raf’s ass, spreading him. “Yes?”

“Fuck you, _yes_.”

Raf was slick and warm and pliant under his hands, under his lips, and just as welcoming to his cock. All the air was sucked out of the room as Jaskier pressed into Raf, fingers gripping his hips. He watched the line of Raf’s spine bow and arch with that slow, slow press inside; his friend was gripping the sheets so hard his knuckles bled white with effort. “Okay?”

Raf whimpered, thrust back, the movement dragging Jaskier deep into him. They both groaned. “If you ruin me for anyone else….”

“House on the beach and three kids it is,” Jaskier said, finishing the old joke they’d shared for years between them. “But your money, darling.”

Raf laughed, the sound going strangled and on edge as Jaskier gave an experimental thrust forward. “Go slow,” he said, giving Jaskier another look over his shoulder, one that hit Jaskier square in the chest.

* * *

“Don’t snore.”

“What? Never.”

“Raf.”

“Julian.” Lutz sat up and let the sheet pool around his waist. Jaskier lay on his back beside him, sweat slowly cooling on his chest and neck. He put a soothing hand on Jaskier’s arm. “Any regrets?”

“Not at all.” He grinned, all cheek. “Besides, I did most of the work.”

“Sometimes you need to sweat a little to have a revelation.”

“Or two.”

Lips twitching, Lutz rolled his eyes. “Cad. Does the first one even count? I barely touched you and you were coming like a teenager.”

Jaskier groaned pitifully and put a pillow over his face. “Just end me.”

“Sadly I cannot. I need my best friend.” Lutz gently pried the pillow away from Jaskier’s face, his grin dropping. “But truly? Let’s talk as friends but without all the dirty asides and jokes.”

Jaskier sat up and put his hands on Raf’s cheeks. “You are a lovely man, but I just don’t feel that way about you.”

“Nor I you, my darling Julian. You are my nearest and dearest, but we aren’t meant for something different.” He leaned in and kissed Jaskier’s forehead tenderly. “Though I admit to the _tiniest_ bit of jealousy at the next man who gets that marvel of a cock. And when that happens, you must tell me everything. I need to know if Geralt’s ass is as firm as it seems to be. As the old saying goes, you could bounce coins off that thing.” Lutz stretched and quickly went about getting dressed. Once he’d pulled on everything but his shoes, he turned and said, “But I do think one of those pacts, like every ten years if we’re both single we do this again kind of deals might go over well.”

“Deal.” 

As he laid back down, settling in for a post-coital nap, Lutz came to his side. “Seriously. Be honest. No regrets?”

“None.” Jaskier spoke true. It had been a good morning, but he didn’t feel some deeper emotional connection that would have him confessing love to his friend. “But what about you?”

“Not one bit.” And as Lutz looked down at him, Jaskier knew he wasn’t lying even a little. “You and I both got something out of it. My dear friend, I love you. I would fight the world for you. And apparently take your cock up my ass.”

Jaskier sputtered a laugh and Lutz grinned in response. “Go on, I know you’re itching to get on with your weekend.”

“I am, in fact.” He pressed another kiss to Jaskier’s forehead, and with a wink and a wave, was gone.

As he lay back in bed, Jaskier realized he truly didn’t regret what had just happened. Being touched by someone who cared that much went beyond the physical (and the physical was pretty great). He’d been cared _for_ , and it had been a very long time since that had happened. Jaskier closed his eyes and sighed. Plus he and Lutz had all but signed a contract in blood stating that if a decade from now they were both still single, they’d do it again.

His thoughts were interrupted by his phone vibrating. A text from Lutz read: _You didn’t tell me the neighbor had HOT friends! My gods, this dark haired man. Eskel, right? I think you told me that name. A god among men. Sorry, lover, but I’m afraid this is where I leave you. I’m gonna go climb him like a tree._

Jaskier laughed until his sides hurt.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt and Jaskier kiss; Jaskier hears about Ciri’s entrance into Geralt’s life; Ciri is a perceptive little kid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE mind the CW on this one!
> 
> CW: death, birth trauma, suicide, adoption
> 
> Now the fic has a [Spotify playlist!](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/50lv1q9k2xFBH8DcuCleUW?si=YaXhHX-rQ0GT3VcaRhk2RA)
> 
> Updates now every Monday and late Friday/early Saturday, as my schedule and health allow.
> 
> Please come say hi on Discord! I have Twitter but don’t use it much. But I would like to say hello on Discord; Halli#5283

Geralt knew he was a goner the moment his lips touched Jaskier’s. Overwhelmed by his warmth and his taste and his smell, Geralt wanted to bury himself inside and never leave. Curl up in Jaskier’s lap and fall asleep to the sound of his breathing and the steady thump of his heart.

That big, sweet, selfless heart that only ever wanted to help. The same heart that drove him to open a nonprofit and help struggling artists. The same heart that welcomed him and Ciri with a smile and a wave and an offer of hot food and a thoughtful note in the mailbox. The same heart that had clearly been broken by someone who treated Jaskier horribly, leaving him to fit the pieces back together.

Geralt fell in love a little bit in that moment when their lips brushed against each other. He bit back the moan that tried to escape and pulled Jaskier closer. When Jaskier gasped in surprise, Geralt licked at the seam of his lips and was welcomed into the wet heat of his mouth.

_ This one. This one. You know it’s this one. _

Jaskier was soft under his hands, under his mouth, tasting of mint toothpaste and something distinctly  _ him _ . Geralt’s hands wanted to roam, to trace the bony knobs of his spine and settle on the slim hips that had called to him from across their yards. But he couldn’t, so he didn’t.

Their tongues only brushed and if he shivered, Jaskier didn’t seem to notice. The man made one tiny whimper and then was pulling back. It was too soon, too fast. Geralt almost stopped him, almost dragged him forward to plunder those pinkened lips.

But that wasn’t what they agreed to.

Jaskier blinked like he’d gone outside without sunglasses and then gave Geralt a big, dopey smile. “I definitely want to get to know each other better,” he panted, voice a tad strung out.

“Yeah, me too.” Geralt balled his fists and pushed them into his thighs, not trusting his control while Jaskier stood so near, smelling of laundry detergent and dog and warmth.

_ Home _ .

It rose, unbidden, in his mind that single word. Geralt pushed it aside to focus on the now, but later he knew it would hit him again and he would fall that much harder.

“Okay, then so uh….tea?” Jaskier gave a short laugh and then slapped a hand over his mouth. “I just.  _ Fuck _ .” He gave Geralt a forlorn look. “I really didn’t want to pull away.”

Geralt shook his head, his loose hair tickling the back of his neck. “Neither did I.”

Jaskier looked like his knees might give out and Geralt readied himself to rush forward, to catch him. “I absolutely need to go make tea now so I can calm down.”

“Would you rather beer? I’ve got some at the house.” It wasn’t fully an excuse to get some air, because that was the last thing Geralt wanted to do. He did not want to be away from this man who had just turned his world upside down but his control was on a hair-trigger.

“Actually, you know what? Yes, perfect. Beer won’t get me drunk which means I won’t do anything stupid.” Jaskier glanced back at the kitchen. “Are you hungry? I was going to make an orzo salad with chicken.”

Geralt smiled. “Only if I can watch. I’ve never made that and it’ll be a good chance for me to learn.”

Jaskier blushed, two spots of pink high on his cheeks that Geralt found incredibly endearing.  _ I wonder if he blushes in bed, too. _ “Deal.” He whistled for Dandelion, who trotted after him happily (but not before giving Geralt’s left hand a slobbery kiss and his left thigh a solid whack with her tail).

Geralt took off at a jog across their properties, a grin firmly stuck on his face.

* * *

Geralt watched Jaskier chop parsley with practiced ease. “Where did you learn knife skills like that?”

With a swift swipe of his palm, Jaskier brushed the bright green herb into a bowl and worked on the next grouping of stalks. “So long story short, in college I was very  _ very _ bored and Lutz convinced me I needed a hobby outside of always studying and practicing. I was looking through the community college’s catalog while at a coffee shop and saw they had cooking classes for cheap.” He grinned before popping a cherry tomato in his mouth and chewing with relish. “So a few twenty dollar classes later and I’d picked up enough skills to at least learn how to not burn water.”

Geralt chuckled. “And it became a passion?”

“It did, actually. A point of pride, too, to be able to make nice meals.” Jaskier’s gaze went unfocused as he stared at a point past Geralt’s shoulder. “I used to have these really intimate dinner parties. Big table set with taper candles, all the cutlery just so, fresh flowers, gorgeous plating.” He sighed and brought his attention back down to the cutting board. “But that was a lifetime ago. Now, I’m just glad to have the ability to feed my friends.” Geralt watched him shake his head, frowning slightly only for a moment before brightening.

Jaskier’s smile was an arrow aimed right at Geralt’s heart. The oven timer went off, interrupting their moment, and he stood. “Tell me what to do.”

Jaskier had him pull the chicken from the oven and set it aside to rest while he finished chopping ingredients and dumping them into a bright red bowl. He snuck looks when he could, finding an innate joy in how Jaskier’s hands moved in such a confident, practiced manner. Sharing the kitchen and a meal was truly special for him. He usually only cooked for him and Ciri, and then his brothers and Vesemir when they came over for birthdays and holidays and cookouts. 

But the new house, the new space held so many possibilities. Geralt had already been measuring the dining room to maximize table space and looking at cabinet organization systems for the kitchen. He pictured him and Ciri making dinners together. Making memories together in their home.

“I think we’re done!” Jaskier handed Geralt a plate before snagging his beer by the bottle neck and taking a swig. “Thank you for letting me fuss over you, Geralt. It’s nice, this. To be able to share food with a friend.”

“Yeah.” Geralt smiled at him and felt that spark again. It echoed across his body, warming like liquid fire in his veins.

_ This one. This is the one _ .

“Yeah, it is.”

* * *

As the sun set, Jaskier and Geralt and Dandelion went to the second floor, beers in hand, to watch it sink over the horizon from Jaskier’s balcony. “Apologies for the unmade bed,” Jaskier said as he pushed open the bedroom door. He’d changed the sheets and blankets after Lutz left and cleaned everything up, but he hadn’t been pin-neat in remaking the room. 

Jaskier walked into his bedroom, Dandelion on his heels, before he realized that Geralt hadn’t followed. “Everything all right?”

Geralt stood in the doorway, eyes widening as he looked around. Simply put, he’d never seen a room quite so gorgeous. The plain white interior door gave no hint at the taste of paradise within and some part of Geralt wanted to sink into that massive four post bed. Even better if he was there, invited, by the very man whose body he wanted to map with his hands and tongue.

_ You have an agreement. Stop staring _ .

Jaskier gave him an impish smile. “If I ever sell this place, the cover photo better be this room.”

“I’ll say,” Geralt replied slowly walking in enough to turn a circle. The room was painted a soft, dreamy blue, a color that accentuated the white trim and white marble fireplace on the far wall. Double doors were already open to the cool fall night, where gauzy off-white curtains danced in the breeze. The floor was tile that looked like marble from a distance, with the beautiful striations usually seen in natural rock. A huge, plush, dark blue rug sat before the fireplace, where two off-white armchairs waited for occupants. A few small side tables were scattered about, holding candles and knicknacks. The mantle held tall, elegant pillars of swirling white and silver wax, along with a few stacks of books.

But the bed. The bed was a work of art. Four mangowood pillars that were carved in elaborate, curling designs anchored the largest bed he’d ever seen. The white paint on the wood at the top of the pillars, headboard and base bled, like running ink, into shades of blue, turquoise, and navy ending in a deep, velvety indigo at the bottom. And the bed was covered in a similar indigo blanket and tossed with pillows in yellows, blues, and whites.

And the bed was absolutely not  _ unmade _ . The tiniest corner of the cover was flipped up, but it was otherwise picture-perfect.

Jaskier grinned. “It’s the one piece of furniture in the house that Dandi isn’t allowed on, except on special occasions.” He pointed at the dog bed to the right of where he slept. 

“Where did you get this?” Geralt asked, inching forward, wanting to touch the bed’s frame.

“Very long story and it involves the ex, but I got to keep the artist, who became a friend, and the bed. So I won, in some regard.” Geralt saw his smile wobble but it didn’t drop, and he was suddenly, fiercely proud. “But come on, the night waits for no man and certainly not even my beautiful bed.”

As they got settled on the little balcony and Dandi harrumphed at them from the bedroom, Geralt breathed in deeply and let the scent of dying leaves and hay fill his senses. He loved autumn, almost as much as winter. Sure the motorcycles didn’t come into the shop as much for repairs, but they had no shortage of restoration work that clients paid a premium for, and the quieter months meant he had more time for Ciri. And this year, the focus was on getting the new shop running at top speed, so he could widen the customer base.

But more than the business and getting to restore bikes - his true passion - it was about purpose. Every year, in those months, he found more time for him, for Ciri, and for them and what they wanted out of their lives. It meant hikes in the woods with only birdsong above and the sound of their feet crunching through snow. It meant doing puzzles at the kitchen table and helping her with her homework.

He wondered if Jaskier would like a framed puzzle. But something like that was probably too kitschy for such a streamlined, beautifully decorated house.

“Geralt?”

“Hmmm?” He turned to see Jaskier gazing at him, a slightly confused smile on his face. “Did something happen?”

“No, I just...you looked a little spaced out.” The smile grew. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Geralt reached out his beer and Jaskier followed suit. The clink of bottles echoed in the night air. “I’m good. Really good. Beer and company after a meal…” And he gazed at Jaskier through hooded eyes. “A really fantastic meal made by a spectacular person? Even better. Helps that the company happens to be that same, spectacular person.”

Jaskier gaped for a moment, then seemed to collect himself as he righted in his chair and said, “Geralt, are you flirting with me?”

“And if I am?” That gaze sharpened, focused on Jaskier’s mouth. 

Jaskier said the first thing that came to mind, which was to laugh and reply, “You know, Lutz wasn’t even sure if you liked men, and his gaydar is typically spot on. Good for you for confounding White Orchard’s most eligible bachelor.”

Geralt chuckled and took a swig of beer, letting the malt flavor sit on his tongue for a long moment. “I see beauty in a lot of people. The outside doesn’t matter much.” He shrugged, like it was the most natural thing to say. “And your friend? You know he dressed me down last night, while I was sitting in front of my house?”

“Oh god,” Jaskier moaned, swiping a hand down his face. “Gods, I love him to death but he is so protective.”

“Nah, it’s good. I’m glad you have him watching out for you.” Something sparkled in his eyes, drawing Jaskier in. “You two ever….”

That morning flashed back to Jaskier and he flushed. “Um, once.” He blew out a breath, scrunched up his face in a way that Geralt found adorable. “This morning, actually. Not a pity fuck! A uh...god...a way to heal?” His flush darkened and Geralt wanted to soothe it away with his fingers. “I don’t even know why I’m admitting this.”

Geralt only stared at him, steady and sure. “Are you ashamed of it?”

Jaskier sat up bolt-right in his chair. “What? No, not at all. I didn’t want to scare you off, I guess.”

“Why would that scare me off? That you took comfort that I assume was freely offered from someone you know and love?”

Jaskier hung his head, then snapped it back up, grin growing. “Well, when you put it that way, it makes perfect sense.”

“It does to me.”

“You are a confounding, fascinating man.”

Geralt had to laugh. “I’ve been called worse.” He let the silence fill the moment, and then said, “So how did you two meet?”

“Funny story,” Jaskier admitted, swallowing a mouthful of beer before continuing. “Some mutual friends set us up on a blind date. This was over ten years ago, mind you, so we were in university together. We were at the restaurant for ten minutes when we realized our friends had horrible dating advice and we spent the rest of the evening getting drunk and roasting them.” Buoyed by Gearlt’s laugh, Jaskier told him the full story of how he and Rafael Lutz drank a bottle of wine each, split the check, and then walked the boardwalk arm in arm, admiring the lazy circle of seagulls and the gentle lap of waves against the weathered wood under their feet. 

“We did try to kiss. Figured why the hell not since it was a nice night. But it was awful.” Jaskier shuddered. “I gave him too much tongue, he didn’t give enough, and we stopped almost as soon as we started. But we were laughing. And I knew I’d made a friend.”

Geralt snorted. “Kinda like me and Eskel, but backwards.”

“Exactly.” Jaskier paused, then with a deep breath said, “Lutz told me something this morning that had me looking at things in a different light. He said I’m still trying to heal from that awful thing with  _ he who shall not be named _ .” His grin dropped and Geralt saw real hurt, raw and painful, like an open wound still scabbing over. “But I’m getting there. It’s the other reason I had us make that deal tonight. I don’t want to mess up something with my damage, and I don’t want to leave that baggage at your door. You’ve got responsibilities, and Ciri, and I would never forgive myself if I barged into your lives and let  _ him _ ruin something.”

Geralt let Jaskier’s words roll over in his mind. He knew a pain of a similar kind, the stuff that lingered, that you couldn’t shake. His was the war, the fighting, and a tiny part of it was still Yen. But he had an advantage - Ciri had come into his life, only a few days old, and he found purpose.

But Jaksier had purpose, too. He did incredible things with artists and lifted up creators in the community. But he was still hurting, still reeling. From the little Geralt had picked up, it had been bad. The kind of hurt you don’t heal with a hug and a few one night stands.

“Hey,” Geralt finally said, aware Jaskier was looking at him - to him - for a reply. “I get it. It’s not a game of whose baggage is worse. I told you I was in the war? So was Lambert, and Eskel. Vesemir was already retired but he blamed himself for pushing us into service as soon as we were old enough to sign the paperwork. That shit fucks you up, seeing the things we did. But we pulled through and didn’t get sent home in body bags, so we figured we were lucky.” 

He sighed and leaned back in his chair, adamant that Jaskier hear him. “It took a while, and I fucked up a relationship that meant a lot. But we weren’t good for each other. She was driven and focused and I was so stuck back in the trenches, every night screaming for help because I watched a man get shot in front of me. We fucked each other up. And then I’m alone, fighting to just keep going, wondering if I had any reason  _ to _ keep going….and Ciri came into my life.”

“I wasn’t going to ask, and you said you’d have to be drunk to tell it,” Jaskier said slowly. “I’m glad you have her. And she has you. I’m...honestly, the way you two are with each other is really special.

“Yeah, she’s a special kid.” Geralt tipped his half-empty beer at Jaskier, eyes cast down as he relived a moment that was clearly important. “I’ll tell you if you want to hear it, but Ciri’s entry into this world was rough. Really rough. This isn’t conversation for polite company.”

Jaskier gestured at himself, the man wearing dog-drool stained sweatpants and an old t-shirt and hoodie. “Because I’m  _ clearly _ dressed for five courses starting with amuse bouche.”

Geralt barked a laugh. “All right. But you were warned.”

* * *

They took a moment to stare out into the night, the full moon casting light and shadow at them through the trees lining Jaskier’s backyard. Finally, Geralt slumped in his chair and sighed before starting.

“I’d been home about two years, and I get a call. It was Brenton. He was a friend, someone I’d known in the war. He tells me he’d gotten his girlfriend pregnant and that Livi had been having trouble. It was a tough pregnancy, but they wanted to see it through. So a few weeks later, I get a text from him that he’s on the way to the hospital and could I keep my phone nearby, cause he was talking like there were some problems with the baby and Livi.”

“He’s a friend, so yeah, emotional support is good. I can do that. I’ve always been good at being a rock for other people. A day goes by and I don’t hear anything from Brenton, so I try calling but he doesn’t answer. And in the middle of the night he finally calls and it’s….fuck, Jaskier, it was bad.” 

Geralt stared down at the concrete pad they were sitting on, grimacing, sucking in a shaky breath. Finally, he continued. “Livi died in childbirth, and he was stuck with this newborn in the NICU cause she was born too early. He didn’t know the first thing about taking care of such a helpless creature on his own. On this call, he broke down on me. Sobbing, bawling, begging me to take this baby. Telling me he didn’t want her going into the system and becoming another lost, scared kid like he’d been. He knew the system, had been in it since he was tiny.”

Geralt shoved a hand in his hair and blew out a hard breath, watching Jaskier’s sad eyes take stock of him. Worry about him. “Long story short, I’m sweating, running down the hallway in the hospital. I just knew.” The implication of his words clearly hit Jaskier all at once and he whispered, “Oh no,” just as Geralt shook his head. “Yeah. He went back to his place and ate his service revolver. Left behind a nursery full of stuff for a newborn and the suit he was going to wear when he asked Livi to marry him.”

He kept talking. He needed to get it out, let it be in the open between them. “Those days and months afterwards are a blur,” Geralt admitted, his tone nearing a hush as he finished his beer. “And it sucked. It really really sucked. Livi’s family didn’t want the baby, Brenton had no family to speak of. And when the police cleared his place, they found a note telling them to give me full custody because I was -” He looked away, his voice choked. “I was the best person he knew and we’d talked for a long time during those nights on the front about how we wanted to be dads. But he couldn’t do it without Livi, so he wanted me to have Cirilla. And I never hesitated. To this day, I don’t know why but I don’t regret one moment.”

Geralt watched Jaskier pull his hand away from his mouth. Usually when he told people the story, they reeled in horror, apologized, and then told him what a good dad he was and weren’t they lucky. It was a response, an honest one, and Geralt never faulted anyone for giving it.

But he didn’t expect Jaskier to pull him to his feet, take his empty beer bottle from his hand, and wrap him in a hug. “Did anyone help you after all that?” he asked softly in Geralt’s ear, one hand rubbing up and down Geralt’s back soothingly.

Geralt leaned into the touch and the embrace, letting Jaskier’s scent wash over him. “Yeah. The boys, Vesemir. Eskel’s mom is a fucking hoot and she helped me figure some of the tough stuff.” He let out a dry chuckle. “You should have seen us, four combat vets standing around a crib over a tiny newborn while Eskel’s mom yells at us to follow instructions.” Geralt pulled back to look at Jaskier, whose eyes were glassy with empathy and admiration. “It was like a bad sketch comedy, watching us idiots figure out diapers. So yeah, they kind of all adopted Ciri and I figured it out, mostly.”

“I think you more than mostly figured it out, Geralt.” That hand moved in slower, lazier circles on Geralt’s back, lulling him into a state of relaxation. “I said it before - you two really are special together. You are each a product of the love you share, and that is so rare.” Jaskier paused, weighing his words. “Thank you for telling me. Thank you for trusting me with that story.”

Geralt brushed the hair out of Jaskier’s eyes, holding his gaze as he said softly, “Thank you for letting me tell it.”

* * *

Ciri came back from her fishing trip tired, stinking of worms, and loaded with containers of fresh salmon. Some of which she hand delivered to Jaskier with a grin. “Those I caught myself!”

“Oh you absolute peach, thank you,” Jaskier crowed, already able to smell the honey glazed asparagus and black rice he’d make with the fish. “Had a good time, then?”

“Yes,” Ciri said, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she rubbed Dandelion’s ears. “Vesemir always finds the best fishing spots, so we sit on his boat all day and eat junk food and drink soda.” Then she squeaked and slapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide. “Don’t tell Pops,” she whispered to Jaskier. “He doesn’t like it when Vesemir feeds me a bunch of sugar.”

Jaskier fought back a laugh and said in a stage whisper, “Then maybe don’t bounce so much, otherwise you’ll give it away.”

And Ciri immediately stopped bouncing but did not stop petting Dandelion, who was moaning contentedly. They both laughed at the dog’s reaction. 

“Hey Jaskier?”

“Yeah?”

And the moment Jaskier had been secretly dreading happened. Ciri’s face went thoughtful as she looked him up and down. “Do you like my dad?”

_ Oh fuck _ . “I uh, Ciri. Hmm.” Jaskier was not great at acting the part of cool and casual and he knew he was fidgeting, but what nine year old was this perceptive? Dammit all!

“It’s okay, you don’t have to answer. I know that stuff is complicated.” Ciri cocked her head and gave him a smile, this one warm and genuine instead of teasing. “He likes you. Talks about you a lot.”

Jaskier blinked, and before he could answer, she gave him a cheery wave and Dandi a kiss on the head before bounding off to stand between Geralt and Vesemir. Jaskier was left, salmon in hand, to gape on his front step.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A veterans group is started; Eskel and Lutz flirt (amongst other things); Jaskier takes Geralt and Ciri to the dog shelter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting a tad early as I’m rather ill and am afraid I won’t have the energy to post on Friday/Saturday.

_ A few weeks later _

“Geralt.”

“Yeah?”

Eskel’s hand came down on his shoulder. “You look terrified.”

“Like you’re about to shit yourself,” Lambert added before pouring him a cup of coffee and handing it over. “It might be rough at first but there are ten people out there looking for help. This is a good thing.”

Eskel gave Lambert a curious look. “What, no smartass remark?”

Lambert shrugged. “Not the night for it.” He gave Geralt a serious look. “And if it helps, I’m nervous too.” He peered out of the shop’s back room, past the tool boxes and bikes left for repair, to where a handful of strangers sat waiting.

Taking a deep breath to still the squirming in his gut, Geralt squared his shoulders and walked out into the shop. He made quick introductions just as Vesemir came in and started handing out more coffee and bottles of water. Some people were hesitant, clearly uncomfortable with the entire scenario. But wasn’t that part of it, making yourself do things that rattled your cage because you didn’t know if that very cage door was unlocked or not?

“So this is no formal group or anything. Which I’m sure you figured out by the truly horrible pixelated notice Eskel put up on social media.” That drew a few snickers, which turned into laughs as Eskel flipped Geralt the bird. “I don’t know what you all have been through, but I bet anything we’re the only ones who can understand on a deeper level. Your friends, your family are there...maybe. Or maybe it’s a coworker with a friendly ear, or the person who sits next to you at the bar every Friday who finally asked you about your life.” He looked down, uncrossed his arms. “It took me a long time to figure out who I was after I came back. I’m still working on that. But I’ve got them,” and he pointed to his brothers and Vesemir. “And I’ve got a kid, sweet as anything.”

“And a hot neighbor,” Lambert muttered, drawing a few more laughs. Geralt went to roll his eyes but stopped as the comment made a couple of the more standoffish folks drop their tight body language and begin to look at Geralt the very way he’d been afraid of.

Like a leader. Like the person whom they could all look up to, the person who might help save them. He couldn’t bear that weight, but maybe if Eskel and Lambert and Vesemir took a part of it, they could share the burden. As he looked around the room, he saw flickers of hope dance over faces that wore pain and trauma in a way no one else was able to understand. 

He wanted to help.

* * *

Eskel had walked to Geralt’s new shop location, since it was a nice night and only a few blocks from his little uptown townhouse. Geralt and Ciri finally moving to White Orchard meant he could see them more, too, and he, Geralt, and Ciri had already taken advantage of Sunday morning brunch (with both fake and real mimosas) at the diner. Plus the park was right around the corner and he liked getting coffee at the cart run by a tiny slip of a woman named Maria who took absolutely no shit and reminded him a lot of his mom.

He glanced at his watch and frowned. If he called now, his mom would pick up but she’d grumble about it being past her bedtime. She kept insisting he didn’t need to call so much but Eskel also knew how lonely his mom got in that house by herself with the cat and the bird. She had her ladies’ club and her book club and her hiking group, but for the longest time it had just been them. 

Eskel stuffed his hands in his pockets, wondering for the fiftieth thousand time if he shouldn’t cash in that one account and buy a farm where they could both live. His mom would flip out if he did that, but how could she argue if it wasn’t her money? 

He sighed and looked down just in time to dodge a baby pothole in the sidewalk outside the park. The place was well-lit and surprisingly popular given the hour, with plenty of night joggers and dog walkers out and about. Maria’s coffee cart was closed up, but the tiny four table restaurant on the other side had a line out the door and he could smell their stew from across the way.

_ Fuck it _ , he thought.  _ A walk would do me some good. _ It’d give him a chance to clear his head after the stress of that first support group meeting. It had gone over well, more than what any of them had expected. He knew just from looking at Geralt that he was going to have nightmares tonight. Hell, they probably all would. But he and Lambert and Geralt and Vesemir had more than what the other veterans did - each other. A lot of them were alone, or suffering in silence with a partner who was dealing with their own troubles or didn’t know how to help. There was no system of support given to every child, partner, or parent of a returning war vet. And there certainly wasn’t anything but bare bones support for those coming back. They’d slap a pill bottle in your hand, tell you to meditate, and send you on your way.

No solutions for when the nightmares loomed and you lashed out, thinking you were back there, waiting to get shot.

The system was broken. And if they couldn’t fix the system, maybe they could make their own. It might be held together by duct tape and a fervent sense of hope, but at least it would be theirs. Theirs to build, to mess up, to use to help others like them.

A cool breeze brushed by him and he pulled the zipper on his jacket up higher, wishing he’d brought a hat.

“That looks like a man who could use a cup of coffee.” The voice was warm, silky, and slightly teasing. As Eskel looked over at the chessboard and the man seated before it, he grinned as Lutz said, “Come on, now. It’s my  _ special _ blend.”

With a shake of his head, Eskel ambled over and took the seat across from the dapperly dressed man, whose coat hung open even in the breeze. “Special, huh?” he asked.

“Well, considering this is a public park and this thermos contains more than your average cup of Joe, yes.” Lutz retrieved a paper cup from his pack and poured a generous serving before handing it over. “My usual chess partner had to leave early, so I figured I’d finish his game for him. But now you’re here.”

Eskel took a sip of coffee and immediately hit the bourbon floating in between the layers of rich, dark roast. “That’s more than a little special,” he said, coughing against the unsuspected burn.

“It’s also very good bourbon.” Lutz winked at him. “Oh, and it’s your move.”

The board was clearly stacked against him, but Eskel tried to maneuver into a less embarrassing loss. But six moves in, and he was done. “Nicely played,” he said, draining the rest of his cup and feeling the bourbon insulate him against the chill.

“I do think I’m halfway decent at this, but I admit I expected you to lose in two, not six.” Lutz was studying him closely, the faint white glow of the streetlamp near them reflecting off his glasses. “I also wasn’t sure if you’d remember me from the other day.”

“I think I’d have a hard time ignoring you.” He cocked his head, letting his eyes rake over the other man’s face. “We’ve actually met before this week. I came to your gallery back in the summer.”

“Did you now?” Lutz said, leaning forward as his voice dropped into a purr. “Oh yes, the Edging showcase. You had on that gorgeous velvet jacket and I flirted shamelessly with you.”

Eskel sputtered a laugh. “Is that what it was called? Holy shit.”

Lutz shrugged, clearly pleased with Eskel’s reaction. “Hard to forget the name.”

“Or the art.”

“Or the art,” Lutz agreed. Then he sighed happily. “I still get a few angry letters from blue hairs who want to protest outside the gallery for ‘showing such filth’. Then I sic Jaskier on them and they can’t say no to those big blue eyes or kind demeanor.”

“Never?”

Lutz grinned. “Haven’t had any repeat complainers.”

Eskel moved a pawn around the board aimlessly, staring at Lutz through his lashes. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a little scary and very attractive?”

“Only all the time.” Lutz put his finger on top of the king, rocking it back and forth. “Do you want to get out of here?”

Eskel didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

* * *

Lutz’s hand traced the curve of his ass as he unlocked the front door. “Oh, you are pretty,” Lutz said in his ear before running his tongue over the delicate shell.

His hand slipped on the door handle but after a moment, he managed to get them inside, slamming the door shut with a little too much force. The window beside the door rattled. “Damn,” he said, barely getting the word out as Lutz pressed against him, writhing.

“Upstairs?”

“Yes.”

They fumbled their way up the stairwell, shedding coats and shoes quickly. Eskel couldn’t resist any longer. As soon as he hit the top of the stairs, he hauled Lutz up the last two steps, lifted him by the hips, and pressed the smaller man into the wall just outside his bedroom. Lutz let out a delighted laugh before it was cut off by Eskel’s lips hot on his.

But Eskel wasn’t done, not by any stretch of the imagination. He leaned in and braced himself on the wall, hand right beside Lutz’s head, other hand tugging at buttons on them both. “I’ve wanted you since that night at the gallery,” he admitted between slick, hot kisses. “Everyone watched you but I could  _ feel _ you watching me.”

“Why didn’t you - ah, god, Eskel, your  _ mouth _ \- do something about it?” Eskel heard Lutz’s breath hitch as he sucked a trail down the side of his neck, nipping gently at the gorgeous arc of a collarbone beneath olive skin. “Gods, I can’t think clearly when you do that.”

“Don’t want you to think.” Eskel couldn’t stop from rubbing up against the other man, whose questing hands were undoing his belt and throwing it aside. “But also didn’t want to seem too forward.”

Eskel came face to face with a flushed, panting Lutz, who was practically clawing him in need. “Too forward? We met at a showing of photographs of both the tasteful and deeply pornographic varieties.” Eskel snickered, making Lutz give him a lopsided grin. “We talked in front of a six by five foot photograph of an erect penis. It doesn’t get more forward, or more gay, than that.”

They stumbled into Eskel’s bedroom, laughing, shrugging out of their shirts so they could finally get their hands on each other. Lutz was all lean muscle and wiry arms, chest lightly dappled with curling dark hair that Eskel wanted to nose his way through. It was only after Eskel had dropped his own shirt that he remembered.

The scars. He lived with them every day, and most of the time he figured if someone didn’t flinch at the one on his face, the ones on his body weren’t usually a big deal. But there was always that moment of weakness, of insecurity. And he hadn’t taken a lover in a while, so as he let Lutz stare, he forced himself to stand tall and not shrink. Not hide.

“I was not joking when I said I would climb you like a tree. Though mountain may be a more adept metaphor.” Lutz stalked to him, powerful, graceful movements drawing Eskel’s gaze, making his mouth water. “And I made the joke-not-joke to Jaskier, so I realize you’re missing some context here.”

Eskel reached up to brush his fingertips over the ragged scar across his sternum. “And these don’t bother you?”

“Bother me? Darling.” Lutz closed the distance and Eskel swore he could feel the man practically vibrating with excitement and lust. His scent was intoxicating, bound up in mussed hair and half-hooded eyes that scraped him raw. “I want to lick every one of those scars before we’re done.”

And then Lutz’s fingers were tearing at his pants, pulling them down and letting them fall to the floor so he could cup Eskel through his underwear. Eskel groaned and pitched forward, bracing himself on Lutz’s shoulders. He let his head drift down so he could kiss the side of that tempting neck. When Lutz shivered, Eskel felt it in his bones.

“Get on the bed,” Lutz said, his tone commanding. “I want to look at you before I wreck you.”

Eskel jumped to comply but managed to shift out of the way at the smack Lutz aimed at his ass. He laughed as Lutz pouted. “All you had to do was ask.”

Lutz looked from his open palm to Eskel and back. “I never miss.”

Eskel chuckled and crooked a finger at him. “Then get over here and I’ll willingly roll over for you.”

“Hmmm, I bet.” With the ease of a man confident in himself, Lutz unzipped his trousers and pulled them down over slim hips and defined thighs. Eskel felt saliva pool in his mouth at the sight, but it was the air he had about him that made his cock stiffen. Lutz did nothing but look at him and he felt compelled to follow. 

Eskel wanted to grab him, pin him down, and suck his cock until he screamed.

“You’ve got a look about you, darling,” Lutz purred as he knelt on the bed, crawling forward a little. “Like you haven’t had a proper fucking in a very long time.”

“I look strung out, huh? Hard up?” Eskel shifted up against the pillows so he could look the other man in the eyes. “You gonna fix that for me? Wring me out?”

Lutz slid forward more, slinking like a jungle cat, all power and grace. “You’re mouthy,” he said softly, hand coming up to grasp Eskel’s chin. “Mouthy and pretty. Such pretty eyes, such dark hair.” A finger ran down his chest, skating over that scar so prominent in the middle of his body. “Are you going to let me have my way, pretty boy?”

Eskel could hear his heartbeat in his ears and the near painful erection held at bay by his underwear and still he wanted more. Lutz was playing him like a conductor, winding him up with just the right notes. “Maybe,” he managed to get out just before Lutz’s grip on his chin turned to iron. “Maybe you need to ask nicely first.”

This kiss bit and grabbed. It shook him like a dog with a toy and he was helpless against slick, hot, wanton lips that demanded  _ so much _ from him. And just as soon as it started, Lutz pulled away to bite at his neck, his hands now pinning Eskel by the shoulders to the bed. “I take what I want,” he growled, nipping at Eskel’s earlobe before soothing the sting with his tongue. “And I think I want you riding my cock.”

But despite the thundering pulse of want in his veins, Eskel knew how to play, too. He moved quickly, startling the smaller man and flipping them over so Lutz was staring up at him with surprise and delight, his hair mussed and gorgeous as it framed those hazel eyes. “Who said I bottom?” He teased, pulling Lutz’s groan into his mouth with a kiss that swept them both away.

“That ass does,” Lutz purred when they broke apart, thrusting up against him. “That very, very fine ass I want to squeeze until you can see my fingerprints on your skin.”

“Trapped beneath me and you still think you’re the top here, huh?” Eskel could feel the energy building between them, little shocks of electric attraction and lust making his body tingle and his gut clench in the best way possible. But he took his time, exploring the lines and angles of the body beneath him, listening to every hitched breath, every gasp, every moan. He wanted to know what made Rafael shake at his foundations, and then push just a little more.

Eskel pulled one taut nipple into his mouth, sucking gently. Lutz’s hands were immediately in his hair, impossibly gentle even as he arched and keened. He let his other hand drift, skimming over smooth skin and tracing whorls in the sweat just beginning to bead on Lutz’s chest. He licked and sucked at the little bud, making it red and slick, and then pulled back to admire his work. “Who’s the bottom now?” he rasped, tapping Lutz’s abused nipple with his finger.

“Bastard,” Lutz bit out before launching himself at Eskel, tumbling them both at the end of the bed. Lutz was everywhere, all at once, touching him with finely-tuned intent. And Eskel found himself naked right before Lutz put a hand on his chest, winked, and licked up his cock.

“Fuck!  _ Goddammit _ .” Eskel went boneless at the heat of Lutz’s mouth on his sensitive flesh.

Lutz arched a haughty eyebrow at him. “That’s for the teeth marks on my nipple.”

“Then get up here and I’ll give you a matching set.” But Eskel didn’t lunge for him, letting his eyes convey everything roiling through him.

That eyebrow only arched higher. “In exchange for….”

Eskel grinned and pushed his sweaty hair out of his eyes. “Whatever you want.”

Lutz wrapped those long, elegant fingers around the base of his cock and smiled. “Oh, you charmer.”

* * *

“Jaskier! Dandi!” The young man behind the counter at the dog shelter rushed forward with a grin, immediately bending down to get a lick from Dandelion . “Aunt Denezza said you’d be here today.” 

He grinned, attention now on Ciri and Geralt as his brown eyes peeked at them through a mop of unruly brown curls. “I’m Tybalt. I’m gonna help you out today so you can be trained as volunteers.” Tybalt widened his eyes and motioned to the rooms behind his little counter. “It’s been crazy. The big pet fair Auntie did this morning brought a ton of people in and we just saw the last of the folks who applied for a dog.”

As Jaskier made introductions and Tybalt got Geralt and Ciri started on volunteer paperwork, he caught sight of a head of frizzy red hair through the open doorway. He waved, and Denezza stopped, peered around the doorway, and laughed. “Well shit, look who showed up!”

Jaskier barely had time to think before Denezza - all six plus feet of her - was wrapping him up in a motherly hug that nearly crushed the air from his lungs. “Ow,” he whinged good naturedly as she let him go.

“Please,” she scoffed, smacking him on the back. “You can take it.” The woman gave Dandelion a big hug, too, and was given several slobbery kisses for her trouble. “Dandi, you are the best girl. I miss ya every day, ya beast.” As she let Dandelion go, Denezza cast an eye over at Geralt and Ciri, who were both watching them. “Lordy be, these are your friends?” Denezza stomped over to Ciri and put out her hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Denezza, y’all must be Ciri and Geralt.”

Geralt immediately liked this woman. She exuded a roughspun charm and straightforwardness that reminded him of some of the people in his unit from the war. After he and Ciri shook her hand, Denezza flopped down in the chair across from them in the little lobby and sighed. “Fuck my life, we were so busy today.” She grinned toothily at Jaskier, who chuckled. “Most people don’t know how to handle big dogs but we’ve got five babies placed, which is great. You sure you don’t want another one, Jas?”

Jaskier looked at Dandelion, who barked, to where Ciri was smothering her laugh with her hand. “Oh no, not me. One Dandelion is enough. I’d lose my mind if there were two dogs.” He pointed at Geralt and Ciri. “But these two….”

Sensing weakness, Denezza launched into a quick explanation of what the dog shelter did, how it raised money, and how it was mostly run by volunteers. Quick as could be, she manhandled Geralt and Ciri into a tour, leaving Jaskier and Tybalt to watch them go. Geralt gave Jaskier a look over his shoulder - a mixture of disbelief and subdued delight - and they laughed and waved. “Have fun!” Jaskier said cheerily before cracking up.

“Auntie’s gonna have Geralt cleaning out the cages before he knows what hit him,” Tybalt said between snickers. “And probably put Ciri in her office to feed her cookies.”

Which Jaskier knew was all true. Denezza Yetdavitz was a delightful, foul-mouthed hurricane of energy, big hair, and no bullshit. And as she was the founder of the shelter, she could get away with a lot. 

Every year since he opened Wolfshead, he and Denezza had teamed up to do a show of photographs of the dogs awaiting adoption. The photographs were taken by local artists, eager to show off their craft that didn’t involve weddings or baby pictures. And the nonprofit got to help another good cause. The first year, four dogs were adopted. Last year - the third year of the show - over twenty had new homes. Jaskier would never forget the way Denezza stared at the pile of adoption and volunteer applications the first year, tears welling in her eyes. He knew right then and there that she was one of the most kind-hearted people he’d ever met, and her tough exterior made all the more sense.

A weekend later, he was at the shelter learning how to socialize and exercise the dogs. It was one of many things he and Valdo fought about; how he was “wasting time” working with dogs no one wanted. It was less about disliking animals and more about controlling Jaskier’s time and energy, and that weekend when he came back from shelter, heart full, the first major crack in his wall began to show. It had been the beginning of the end for them. Valdo denigrated his nonprofit - his life’s work - and then he besmirched his efforts on the part of helpless creatures who just wanted homes of their own.

He glanced down at Dandelion, who was bouncing around Tybalt with glee, and was suddenly overwhelmed. It wasn’t the start of any kind of anxiety or panic attack. Instead, he was fiercely proud; of himself, of Denezza and what she had built, and of Geralt and Ciri, who wanted to help and offered their time freely.

He and Geralt had been spending more time together; talking, laughing, sharing meals and drinks. More often than not Ciri was with them, and Jaskier had started to feel more at peace, more at home. Something about their easy relationship with each other, and the clear love they shared, made him feel included and loved, too. They’d done the boring things like hanging up shelves in Ciri’s room or poking about the basement for spiders, but they’d also gone on a picnic, went hiking, and spent another Friday night just talking. Learning about each other. No touching outside of a hug goodnight, even though Jaskier desperately wanted more.

As he and Tybalt talked and he got caught up on gossip involving Tybalt’s moody roommate, he caught sight of Geralt through the open doorway. He was kneeling before a shaggy brown and black Newfoundland, rubbing its ears with both hands. He could see Geralt’s lips moving, so he inched forward to hear, “You are such a beautiful girl. What a sweetheart.”

Jaskier wanted to melt into the floor.

Instead, he was struck with an idea, and a sudden urge to get Geralt alone, even just for a moment. He grabbed one of the leashes hanging on a nearby peg and went to stand by Geralt’s side. “You two seem to be bonding,” he teased, despite the heavy thump of his heart. It made his chest  _ ache _ to watch as Geralt blinked amber eyes at him and grin. 

“Yeah, she’s a really good dog. I can’t believe someone gave her up.”

“People are dumbasses,” Denezza yelled from somewhere in the back. “Come on, Ciri. Let’s go look at the puppies.”

Chuckling, Geralt stood and brushed off his pants, then took the leash Jaskier offered him. “I had a feeling you might want to walk her a bit,” Jaskier said at the slight surprise on Geralt’s face. “After volunteering here, you start to get a feel for when there’s a people - dog match.”

“Very observant,” Geralt said softly, moving closer to Jaskier. “I shouldn’t be surprised, I suppose.”

“No, you shouldn’t.” He gave Geralt a crooked smile and motioned for him to follow.

Once they got the dog, whose name was Daisy (because of course it was), clipped into a harness and put out on the lead, they walked her out past the parking lot and to the little bike trail that ran behind the various businesses. Daisy ambled ahead of them, sniffing the air and occasionally looking back as if to check they were still there.

“Denezza said she’s young, so it should be easy to train her,” Geralt said by way of small talk as they walked down the path. “I might need your help with that. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a dog.”

Jaskier loved that Geralt had already decided Daisy might be a good fit for them. “Oh yeah, of course. I’ve done a lot of training with the shelter dogs. She seems pretty easy going. Not even tugging on her leash.” 

They walked a little further, kicking up dead leaves and bits of dirt, and then Jaskier led them off the path and into a tiny park that held not much more than a swing set and a water fountain. It was empty save for a few squirrels, which Daisy barked at, making them laugh. “Any dog owner knows squirrels are the mortal enemy, of course,” Jaskier said as Daisy watched two squirrels run off into the treeline. “Even Dandi still barks at them sometimes.”

They watched Daisy snuffle at the grass and test the length of her lead before Geralt finally spoke up. “Thank you for bringing us to the shelter. It’s easy for me to get so bound up in stuff with the house and the kid and my work. I gotta remember to meet new people sometimes.”

Jaskier raised an eyebrow at him. “Oh, do I not qualify as new anymore?”

Geralt snorted good naturedly. “You’re something all right.”

He tried to look affronted, but it came off more like barely concealed mirth. “What is  _ that _ supposed to mean?”

Something in the air shifted as Geralt looked at him steadily. “Tempting. You’re really tempting.”

Jaskier inched closer. His fingers brushed Geralt’s. “How many weeks did we say we’d get to know each other before we did this again?”

“We didn’t.” Geralt sucked in a breath, leaned down. “Can’t put a schedule on stuff like that.”

“Hmmm.” Jaskier’s gaze dropped to Geralt’s lips and he leaned in. “Does that mean we can move on?”

Geralt’s reply was to kiss him. And now Jaskier  _ did _ melt, right into Geralt’s arms. It was every bit as good as their first kiss but this bore a thread of urgency. Jaskier wanted to curse that they were out in public but at the same time, it was probably a good thing. Geralt was nipping at his bottom lip and then soothing it with his tongue, curling one hand into the back of Jaskier’s sweater to hold him in place. A knee slid between his and Jaskier thought he would  _ die _ for the sake of wanting more.

He put a hand on Geralt’s cheek, wrapped the other around Geralt’s wrist. It was a slow, drugging kind of kiss, tipping Jaskier well past the point of turned on and letting him get lost in the warmth of Geralt’s mouth, the taste of him sweet on his tongue. He wanted Geralt so much, could feel it thud behind the beat of his own heart.

“We should go back,” Geralt whispered, sliding his lips against Jaskier’s in tiny kisses that teased. “I told Ciri I was only taking Daisy for a quick walk.”

“Yeah. I uh….” Jaskier leaned his forehead against Geralt’s. “Gods, you’re good at that.” 

The chuckle that escaped from Geralt was dark and velvety and it made Jaskier shiver under its heady promise.

They walked back quickly and were met with Denezza’s knowing stare as they entered the shelter’s back door. But she only laughed a little and took Daisy from them so Ciri could spend some time with the dog. “Must have been some walk,” Denezza said slyly as she passed. “Didn’t know the wind could make you both blush so much.”

Geralt flushed a darker red and turned away, making her laugh. But she winked as Jaskier, who only grinned back at her. “Make sure to invite me to the wedding, love,” she whispered only to him.

* * *

Ciri rambled the whole way home about them adopting Daisy. Geralt knew it was going to happen, so he’d taken home the paperwork and gave Denezza his email address so she could forward him some videos on dog training basics. There was still a home visit to do, but Geralt wasn’t worried about that. Between the fenced in yard, an excited kid who wanted to learn all she could about Newfies, and having a neighbor good with dogs, he knew this was right.

As Geralt went about making them dinner and helping Ciri with her homework for Monday, his mind wandered to Jaskier. Just next door. All that temptation wrapped up in one man, and Geralt found himself thinking far too much on what he wanted to do to him.

He shook himself, glancing at the clock. “Okay kid, how we feeling on this math homework?”

Ciri shrugged, yawned. “Pretty good. Better than last week.”

He ruffled her hair. “Good.” Geralt looked at her for a long moment and then said, “I’m really proud of you.”

“I know, Pops.”

And then he was crushing her into a hug that made her laugh and kick to get away. “Nope, not done,” he said, grinning. “You’re not too big for me to swing around, you know.”

Ciri squealed, laughing, as Geralt did the very thing he’d threatened, hauling her over one shoulder and marching up the stairs. Once she’d settled for bed and Geralt was going about shutting lights off, she said, “Hey, Pops?”

“Yeah?”

“I really like Jaskier.”

He blew out a breath, even though she could see him do so. “Kid.”

“Yeah?”

He came back to her bedside and sat down. “Here’s the thing. So do I. But I’m not going to do anything that’ll mess us up. Okay?”

She gave him a look that screamed  _ older than nine years old _ . “Why would Jaskier mess anything up?”

_ Fuck _ . How was he supposed to explain this? He toyed with the fringe on the blanket at her feet, trying to unscramble his thoughts. “I’m not sure how to explain it. You and me, that’s how it’s always been. You know how you came to me, you know why I’m trying to be better about being so overprotective.” Geralt looked up and saw Ciri watching him closely, her face passive as he rambled. “Every adult has a past. Mine’s kinda still screwed up. Jaskier’s trying to get along with his. And yeah, so far, we’re good. But the closer people get, it can get complicated.”

She scrunched up her face in thought. “Well, that’s stupid.”

“What?”

She put her hand on his and squeezed. “Why does everything have to be so difficult? If you like him, tell him. He likes you.”

Now he crossed his arms, trying to look serious but he could feel the smile breaking through. “And you know that how?”

Ciri shrugged. “He watches you. Especially when you’re not looking.”

He glared at her. “You are not nine years old.”

“You say that once a week.”

“At least.”

She laughed and flopped back against her pillows. “Did you kiss him yet?”

“Ugh.” Geralt hid his face in his hands, scrubbing at his cheeks with his palms. “Ciri.”

“What?”

He paused, peering at her as he swiped at his jaw self-consciously. “You really want to know? I feel like a bad parent right now.”

“Not possible.”

Geralt looked away, overcome. This kid was going to be the death of him. “Yes.”

“Eeeeee! Really?”

He glanced back as the bed jolted under her excited jump. “Yes. Why would I lie?”

Ciri crossed her arms and adopted a stern look, dropping her voice low as she said, “Because you’re too young to know about that stuff, kid. I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

Geralt swallowed his laughter, opting to toss a pillow at her, which she flung back with shocking force. He barely managed to snag it by the corner before it flew across the room. “Okay, you win. Yes, we’ve kissed.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“Oh come on! Now what?” Ciri snatched the pillow from him and hugged it to her chest. “You should take him to dinner. I’m at Vesemir’s next weekend. Take him then.”

Geralt glared at her, still trying to wrestle back a grin. “I’m not taking dating advice from my kid.”

“Ask Uncle Eskel, then. He likes all those sappy movies with the kissing.”

“Ugh.”

“You said that already.”

“Come here.” Geralt drew her into a hug, breathing in the scent of her strawberry shampoo and the scent of them. Their home. There was even a hint of lavender underneath it all.

_ Lavender from the beautiful handmade candle Jaskier had given her for her new room. The candle she didn’t want to burn because she said it was too pretty, but she kept picking it up to sniff it. _

“You can be happy, Pops,” she said near his ear. “If Jaskier makes you happy, isn’t that good?”

Geralt kissed her forehead and made sure her blankets were pulled up before saying, “I hear you, kid. I do.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt and Ciri bring Daisy home; Geralt and Jaskier kiss again; first date is set up.

Geralt’s phone buzzed just as he pulled into the back parking lot of the new shop but he put it away. It was a busy morning and he needed to get going.

It’s not like he’d been losing sleep over something as simple as a kiss. Definitely not that.

Two of the mechanics were already at work and Zoltan’s cousin Unice was at their desk typing away on invoices. He waved good morning to everyone and then pulled out his phone, remembering it had gone off a few moments before.

_ You and I need to talk, big guy. Remember what I said about doing right by Jaskier? _

Shit. Fuck. He typed a quick reply to Lutz.

_ Was going to ask you bout that. You don’t happen to know anyone at Velen, do you? _

The only response was a demon-horn emoji. Chuckling, Geralt shook his head and ducked into the back room to throw on coveralls and welding gloves. 

By lunch he was sweaty and dirty but the latest bike restoration was done and the customer had spent several long minutes examining every detail to make sure it was up to his rather particular specifications. And it  _ was  _ because it was Geralt’s work, but it was a paying customer he couldn’t afford to piss off.

Unice stamped the copy of the invoice paid, gave it to the customer, and filed away the shop copy as the customer drove off with his trailer and new bike. “This means I get a raise, right?”

Geralt snorted. “The shop’s been open two months, Un. No one gets a raise until we see a profit.”

“Did someone say raise?” Vetch yelled over the sound of the welder.

“Go back to work!” Geralt yelled back, making Vetch laugh. Vetch was the best damn mechanic he’d ever seen, so Geralt put up with his shit every now and then. But Vetch was also like him - a veteran who had seen some particularly bad shit on the old Cintra front lines. 

Marskeen, another veteran, passed through the shop floor on her way to the back for a smoke break. Aside from welding, she did custom paint jobs that drove in some of the younger customers. Her work was getting featured online and through social media channels, and she was booked for months out. “You know anything about generators, boss?”

“Outside of what they do? Nope. That’s electrical shit, and I don’t mess with that.” Geralt dug around in the spare desk and finally pulled out a slightly tattered business card. “Lambert knows this guy, says he does solid work.”

Marskeen took the card, nodded her thanks, and started to walk by but stopped. “Oh hey, forgot. Me and the wife are having a little dinner party in a few weeks. You should swing by.” She held up a hand with a grin. “Yeah, I know, you got things going on. But uh, you should bring the neighbor. I’ve heard good things.”

Geralt froze. He didn’t talk much about his personal life at the shop, usually just about Ciri if anyone asked (and they always did, since she’d grown up around most of the mechanics). But they all knew who the shop gossip monger was.

With precision, he turned to stare at Unice. “What?” they said, arms crossed. “Okay, so maybe I was talking to Zol and some of them overheard.”

“Un, look at me.” Trying to keep his face schooled into a serious mask, Geralt stared down while turning their chair slowly so they were face to face. “Seriously?”

“Maybe.”

“Ugh.” But he was laughing. He waved Marskeen off, who was nearly bent over cackling, her freckled cheeks red. “You all gossip more than a bunch of church wives.”

“I’ve seen his picture in the paper!” Marskeen yelled as he walked away. “He’s real cute, Geralt, and you know I don’t swing that way!”

With a sigh, Geralt pulled out his phone and saw he’d missed a few texts from Lutz.

_ Tell me when and I’ll make a reservation. _

_ Last chance, Geralt. _

_ NVM, your reservation is Saturday at 7. The place is not casual so make sure you impress. If you need help, let me know. _

_ Also, Eskel says hello. _

Geralt nearly dropped his phone after reading the last text.   


* * *

That night, they brought Daisy home. Ciri was brimming with excitement but Jaskier was doing a good job of redirecting her attention to discussing what life would be like with a dog in the house. Geralt and Denezza went back to get Daisy from her pen as Jaskier was telling Ciri how even the best behaved dog would need an adjustment period.

“You ready for this?” Denezza stood outside Daisy’s pen as the dog turned in circles and panted. 

“Yes.” And he was. This was going to be a night of firsts. They were bringing Daisy home, for one, and once Ciri went to bed, he was going to ask Jaskier on a date. He should have been nervous, but all the excitement around the giant ball of fur and big brown eyes staring up at them pushed his thoughts of the date off to the side. At least for now.

Denezza opened the pen door and Daisy ambled out, shook herself, and immediately nudged Geralt’s leg. He bent down to rub her ears, which she seemed to greatly enjoy, and then Ciri was there and it was a lot of activity as the two got reacquainted.

Jaskier was suddenly behind him, hand on his shoulder. “Just a girl and her dog,” he said softly as they watched Ciri sit on the floor and pet Daisy with gentle enthusiasm. Daisy licked her face and the two were immediately snuggling. “You did good, Geralt. She looks really happy.”

“That’s the whole goal, all the time,” he said just as quietly. “But I uh, find myself focusing on other things lately.”

“Other  _ things _ ?” Jaskier leaned in, his breath warm on Geralt’s ear, his hand hovering over the small of Geralt’s back. “I also find myself occupied with thoughts of other  _ things _ of late. How very coincidental.”

“Hmmm.” He wanted to lean in  _ so badly _ and claim Jaskier’s mouth, put his hands on that slim waist and feel stomach muscles clench in need. “Later.”

“Fine.” Jaskier stepped away only to say laugh softly and, “You don’t get to tease me forever. I’m a patient man, but not a saint.”

They headed home, bags of dog food and toys and new leashes in hand. As soon as Geralt opened the front door, Daisy bounded in and began sniffing around. Ciri kept her on the leash as she explored, and then the pair headed into the backyard. “Hopefully she and Dandi get along past their little intro the other day,” Jaskier said as they watched dog and girl chase each other.

“Definitely not worried,” Geralt replied, unable to stop himself from touching Jaskier. It was the most chaste of touches, just a hand on the shoulder, but the way Jaskier leaned in, his eyes fluttering shut….

“Geralt.” His name on Jaskier’s tongue, sweet as anything and heavy with need, rocketed through Geralt like fire. Death by inches, so close to what they both wanted and yet -

“Can I show Daisy her bed?”

Jaskier sucked in a breath and stepped away, smiling big at a panting Daisy and red-cheeked Ciri. “I better let you two get settled for the night,” he said, looking at Ciri so fondly Geralt thought his heart might burst. “I’m really glad you picked her. She’s a good dog.” 

Jaskier rubbed Daisy’s ears and the dog grunted happily. Ciri laughed, and to both Geralt and Jaskier’s utter shock, threw her arms around Jaskier’s waist and squeezed. “Thank you, Jaskier,” she said, looking up at him like he hung the moon. 

Jaskier gave Geralt a panicked look but the smile Geralt gave him must have worked, because he only paused for a moment before gently hugging Ciri back. “Right, well, I uh….ahem, you’re welcome, Ciri. It’s nice to know you have Daisy, and Daisy has a good home.”

The two separated and Ciri began to walk upstairs, Daisy in tow. Leaving them somewhat alone for the first time in days. Jaskier bit his lip and gave Geralt a sheepish smile. “I was not expecting that.”

“I rarely know what to expect with her.” For lack of anything else to do, Geralt stuffed his hands in his pockets. The moment between them, that heartbeat of want, felt lost. But when their eyes connected, Geralt felt it throb in his gut again, a tender ache of desire that begged to be slaked with Jaskier’s touch.

He rounded on Jaskier, pushing the man into the corner tucked off to the side of the stairs and hidden by the wall. The last thing he wanted to do was wait anymore.

“Geralt.” His name again on Jaskier’s lips, but this time he snatched it away with his own, making Jaskier swallow it under the force of his kiss. Geralt didn’t do casual, and this was anything but that. Everything about Jaskier made him wild with need, and as he hemmed the other man in, he didn’t want to hold back anymore.

_ This one. This one. _

Jaskier became putty in his hands. Geralt put a palm over the buttons of his shirt, right over that thundering beat of his heart, but had to stop. One button undone would become two, and then that would be it. His control would snap completely and he’d be dragging Jaskier to the floor and rutting on him like a horny teenager. 

“Dinner,” Geralt managed to say against Jaskier’s mouth. “Let me take you to dinner.”

Jaskier was so busy digging his fingers into Geralt’s hair that he had to pause before replying. “Yes. When?”

“Saturday. Seven. We’ll get a car.” Geralt could feel his tether being unwound with every touch of Jaskier’s fingers, every brush of his lips. He pressed him more into the wall, pinning that delightful body beneath his. His hip bumped into a suddenly  _ very present _ erection and he groaned. “I want to take you upstairs so badly.”

Jaskier whimpered into his mouth, clinging to Geralt like his life depended on it. “Don’t tempt me. Saturday’s only three days away.”

“Too long,” Geralt growled, snaking a hand between them. His blood was on  _ fire _ , the pulse of need pulling at him so much he could feel it spiral low in his gut. With a wicked grin, he put a gentle hand over Jaskier’s mouth and used the one between them to palm at Jaskier’s clothed erection. Jaskier jumped at the touch, eyes flaring wide and delightfully blue in the low light, but his hips couldn’t stop from pushing forward.

The cock under his palm was long and rigid and Geralt wanted to know everything. How did Jaskier like to be touched? Long, teasing strokes, or short, fast ones? Was only the underside of his prick sensitive, or could he thumb at the head and get a full body shudder? Could he fit them both in his fist so they could watch two red, leaking cockheads poke through Geralt’s fingers while Jaskier moaned beneath him?

Could he swallow that cock in one go, or would he have to work up to, slicking Jaskier down with his spit until it dripped off them both?

Jaskier was now a shaking mess under him, head thrown back, eyes screwed shut in pleasure as Geralt toyed with him. He let the hand over Jaskier’s mouth drop, then claimed those kiss-bitten lips with his once more, determined to let the taste linger on his tongue.

Two clever hands found their way under the hem of his sweater. It was the barest brush of warm fingertips on his overheated skin and yet Geralt moaned, sinking even further into Jaskier’s embrace, into their kiss. He felt like a teenager again, all rioting pulse and desperate headlong hurtle into a wall of pleasure that nearly took him to his knees.

There was a bark from upstairs, and then Ciri’s laugh. And of course reality snapped back into focus, leaving them both frustrated and panting. But Jaskier just snickered and pressed his forehead into Geralt’s cheek. “I think that’s your cue.”

“God, Jaskier.” Geralt pulled back to look at the beautiful wrecked state he’d left Jaskier in, thumbing at that swollen bottom lip. “I’m so sorry, I have to -”

“Text me later, let me know where we’re going on Saturday.” Jaskier snuck another kiss, this one sweet and lingering, before ducking beneath Geralt’s arm then hooking his fingers into the bend of Geralt’s elbow. Pulling him down to kiss him once more. “But we’re going to my place afterwards.”

Geralt nodded his assent with a hissed, “Yes” and let Jaskier go, giving him one last look before heading upstairs. He had to wipe the dopey smile off his face - and readjust his pants - before heading into Ciri’s room.

* * *

“No.”

“What about this?”

“Jas.”

Jaskier huffed and hung the shirt back up. “I’m panicking a little.”

“I can tell.” Lutz rose gracefully from where he was reclined on Jaskier’s bed and came to stand by his side. “And I get it. But you are the only thing that man sees outside his kid, so trust me when I say anything you wear will be perfect. As long as I approve it first.”

Jaskier sighed, putting his head on Lutz’s shoulder. “Have I told you lately you’re a really good friend?”

“Not since yesterday when I brought you coffee and a horrifically sticky Danish.”

“You’re a really good friend, Raf.”

“I know.” He flicked Jaskier’s ear playfully. “Now, take a breath, drink your wine, and we’ll start over. I know you have some gems tucked away in that closet, so we will find the right outfit. But breathe.”

Jaskier took the wine glass Lutz offered him and sipped, eyeballing his friend. Raf was strangely glowy today, and his usually immaculate self was a tad on the unmade side. Not that anyone glancing at him would notice, but Jaskier did, in fact, know Lutz like the back of his hand. The hair was growing long, which Lutz would never put up with; he whinged a week after getting it cut. There was stubble on his jaw, which also never passed muster. And Jaskier hadn’t seen that particular sweater in at least three seasons, which meant it was two seasons out of fashion.

“Who is he?” Jaskier asked as casually as he could manage, turning away slightly so Lutz couldn’t see the stupid ass grin on his face.

“Wha - huh?” And there it was….a baffled Rafael Lutz fumbling for his words because he was caught in a daydream about some guy.

“Come on. You know plenty about me and Geralt’s fumblings around each other. How come I don’t get to know about this mystery man?” Jaskier dug a hand deep into his closet and rooted around for a dark grey dress shirt he swore still lived within those dreary depths.

“If you pull out that heinous grey shirt, I will end you.” Jaskier froze, making Lutz laugh. “You know I hate that shirt.”

“It makes my eyes look good,” Jaskier mumbled, but he stopped his search and sighed. “Come  _ on _ . Tell me.”

“No, it flattens your eyes. You need color. Green or purple.” Raf set aside his wine glass and dug around in his satchel, pulling out a perfectly pressed, dark plum dress shirt. “Like this.”

“I hate you.” Lutz laughed as Jaskier glared at him. “When did you buy that?”

Lutz had enough cheek to grin at Jaskier’s scowl. “As soon as you told me Geralt asked you to dinner.”

“Which you helped him with.”

“Of course I did! The head chef is a friend, and of course I’m going to send my  _ best _ friend and his gorgeous date to the only restaurant worth its salt on this side of the Continent.” He handed the shirt to Jaskier, who began carefully unfolding it from the tissue protecting it.

Jaskier held it up against the light and Lutz hummed in appreciation. “Well, there’s that,” he said with a grin that slowly grew. “And maybe once Geralt and I get this whole date thing going, you and your dark haired man can double date with us.”

Lutz sputtered, coughing as wine went down the wrong way. “Oh you bastard,” he said weakly, pounding on his chest with a fist. “You know.”

“I know.” His grin turned smug. “I just wanted to see if you’d admit it.”

“Cheap shot.” Lutz coughed again before kicking out at Jaskier’s knee. “Eskel and I aren’t….”

“You know, Geralt told me something.” Jaskier came to sit beside Lutz, his eyes glinting with mischief. “That Eskel and Lambert used to have a bit of a thing.”

Lutz stilled, eyes widening ever so slightly behind those chic frames. “You don’t say?”

“That still a thing you haven’t crossed off your list?”

“I hate you.” But Lutz was grinning wildly. “Who is this daring man? When did he replace my best friend? The Jaskier I know would never hint at a  _ threesome _ .”

Jaskier shrugged. “You’d like to know, wouldn’t you.”

“Hmmm, I would. Tell me one thing, since you’ve been so skimpy on the dirty details about you and Geralt.” Lutz’s grin spread, the dimples in his cheeks growing deeper. “Please,  _ please _ tell me he’s a fabulous kisser. I need to know that.”

Jaskier went back to his closet, slid a jacket off its hanger, and tossed it at Lutz for his inspection. “Trade you.”

“Dirty! I like it.” He looked the jacket over, thumbing at the faint pinstripes. “Magnificent. Just...I mean literally leaving me speechless most of the time.” Lutz shivered, closed his eyes. “And he smells so good.”

Jaskier chuckled and leaned against the closet door. Something about this was different. Lutz took lovers easily, but he was a consummate casual dater, always telling his dates upfront that he wasn’t the settle down type and that no matter the connection, he’d rather leave too early than leave anyone bitter or jaded. Minimizing hurt was his goal, since he knew he’d likely be the one to call things off before something got too serious.

“All right then, let’s get to it,” Jaskier said as he pulled a box off the closet’s high shelf.

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes.”

Lutz sighed gustily. “Fine. But I got the donuts last time. It’s your turn.”

Jaskier waved the box at him with one hand, pulled out his phone with the other. “Thank god for food delivery.”

The box held five joints and just enough pot to fill a few bowls. They opted for the joints, walking out to the balcony to enjoy their wine with a side of weed smoke.

“He’s a fabulous kisser,” Jaskier said a few minutes later, head lolling against the back of his chair as smoke curled around them. “He tastes so good, Raf.”

Lutz lit the second joint and puffed, expression going lopsided. “Which haze is this? Blue?”

Jaskier thought for a moment. “Scarlet, I think.”

“Wooo, haven’t had this in years. Shit, do they even do this blend anymore?”

He shrugged. “No idea. Enjoy it extra, then.”

“I will.” He turned to Jaskier, eyes bright even through the pot smoke. “So yes, kissing is a good start. A little vanilla, Jas, but a good start.”

Jaskier snorted. “What am I supposed to do, tie him down?”

Lutz sighed gustily. “Still vanilla, but spiced up a little.”

“We’re not all hedonists, Raf.”

“I know. I know.” He grinned wickedly. “Thankfully Eskel’s got a bit freak in him.”

Jaskier started laughing, almost a giggle. “You’re awful.”

“You love me.” 

* * *

“He’s a fabulous kisser.” A sigh, and then, “He tastes so good, Raf.”

Geralt froze. He’d gone around the back of the house to double check he was smelling - yep, that was definitely pot smoke. The good shit, too, weighty and hazy but with a bit of citrus. And since it was coming from Jaskier’s place, he was going to go over and tease the man about needing to get high before their date tomorrow.

But as he ducked between the thin treeline to the fence gate, he overheard Jaskier talking about  _ him _ . And froze.

He absolutely should  _ not _ have been eavesdropping. But just the fact that Jaskier was talking about him with Lutz warmed something in his gut. Hand on the gate, he listened. They bantered about the pot for a moment, and then Jaskier said, “What am I supposed to do, tie him down?”

Geralt sucked in a breath at that, leaning against the gate.  _ Fuck _ . That was a particular fantasy he’d had forever but not indulged in. It took a lot of trust to let yourself be bound, naked and helpless. 

An image of him tied down to Jaskier’s bed had him bringing his fist against his mouth to stifle the groan that wanted to escape.

He missed the next few snippets of conversation as he tried to swim out of a fog of lust, stamping on the urge to yank Jaskier from Lutz’s company and lock them both away in Jaskier’s bedroom. He very blatantly ignored the comment about Eskel (but also tried not to snicker), but all of that was wiped away as Jaskier said, “Raf, he pinned me to the wall last night. I thought I was going to  _ die _ .”

“Oh my gods,” Lutz groaned, then there was a squeaking of metal on concrete, presumably as they shifted around or moved in some way. “You’re joking.  _ Ugh _ that’s hot.”

“You have no idea.” Jaskier gave a slight groan, and as he paused Geralt saw another cloud of smoke rise in the air. “I was so, so close to dropping to my knees right there.”

“Christ, Jas. What is this man doing to you? I’m almost jealous.”

“Ha, you pervert. And also...I love it. I feel like he sees me. Is that stupid to say?”

“No, it’s not.” Lutz paused, and then said softly, “I like him, Jas. I really do. This isn’t fucking Valdo who was a tool immediately but hid it well. Geralt’s genuine. Hot as fuck, but also genuine.”

“I’m so nervous. What if I fuck this up?”

“You’ll be fine. Go on your date tomorrow, enjoy yourself. Kiss him, suck him off, fuck him, do whatever you both want. You’re adults, and you, my friend, need to get laid. Badly.” 

Jaskier snorted. “By someone other than you, you mean?”

“I was doing a favor for a friend, giving you my most precious gift.”

“Your body?”

“My love. And my ass, so yes.”

Jaskier laughed loudly, then coughed around smoke. Geralt could hear it rattle in his throat. “Raf, you are ridiculous. I love you.”

“Love you too. You sure you don’t want me to leave so you can go ring that man’s doorbell, make good on that whole dropping to your knees thing?”

A laugh and then, “Don’t tempt me. It’s late, he’s probably either asleep or getting there, and I absolutely don’t want to wake Ciri up.”

Another pause, which Geralt felt in his gut like a swift kick. He squirmed against the wooden gate, terrified of what Jaskier might say. “I’ve never dated a man with a child. She’s such a good kid, Raf. I don’t…..fuck, the very last thing I want is to mess this up and then make that kid sad. She and Geralt might be the most perfect father daughter pair ever. And she’s….god, I can’t even say it.”

“You’re picturing something more long term. Something down the line involving all three of you.”

Jaskier growled in frustration. Geralt wished he could see his face as he said, “I’m so stupid. I want so badly to have a family and I’m latching onto any thread of hope. But it’s like if I say it out loud I’ll ruin it and I...” Jaskier’s voice broke.

_ Oh, Jaskier _ . Gods, this man was going to wreck him.

“Come here. No, come  _ here _ so I can hug you, you stubborn mule.” Then Lutz’s voice became muffled and he could hear Jaskier snuffle briefly. Lutz’s voice came back to a normal volume after a long moment. “It’s okay to imagine things. Take it slow, be good to yourself. Let yourself enjoy this. Enjoy him, and what’s building between you two.”

“And then tell you everything so you and Eskel can gossip about us?”

“Of course. I thought that was a given.” More laughter, delighted from them both.

Geralt needed to move. His brain told him he should go back to his house and head to bed. But the contact high from the smoke, the way they were talking….

He hesitated, torn between crashing their party and slinking off back to his house. The latter won out. Or perhaps the coil of lust building in his gut did. When he was finally back inside, safely ensconced in his room after checking on Ciri and Daisy (both sound asleep, both snoring), Geralt threw off his clothes and flopped back on his bed.

The sheets were cool on his overheated skin and his head buzzed pleasantly from the pot smoke. Eyes closed, breathing slowed, he pictured how their date tomorrow would begin. And how it would end.

Geralt didn’t consider himself a romantic, but he knew a few tricks. His suit was picked out and pressed, and he had the car service arranged - bottle of champagne included. Lutz had helped him arrange a private table at Velen, along with tableside service and a wine menu. 

Dinner, the beach, and then back to Jaskier’s.

Geralt groaned softly, stifling the noise with his palm as his other hand grasped the base of his hardening cock. He wanted Jaskier  _ so much _ but after tonight, after the way he and Lutz had been talking….

His back bowed, heels digging into the mattress as he stroked himself. Slowly, at first, trying to build up to it, despite the way his blood already ran hot. He swiped his thumb across the head, biting his lip to keep from crying out against the way it felt. He didn’t do this often. He was usually too tired to even bother.

Now he needed it, especially if he was going to make it through tomorrow night without saying fuck it to dinner, pinning Jaskier to the wall, lifting him by the thighs, and easing himself into that beautiful body. Or letting Jaskier take him face to face while they kissed.

“Fuck,” he whispered, arching into his own touch, very aware he was daydreaming himself into a quick, dirty orgasm.

Geralt closed his eyes and stroked faster, chasing that thread of pleasure that was just a tad too far away. He pinched one nipple, then the other, twisting the nubs into peaks. Could almost feel a soft, wet tongue laving them as he pictured Jaskier hovering over his chest, a wicked smile on that handsome face.

_ Is this what you want, Geralt? You can have me. You can have anything. Just say please. _

His orgasm hit hard and fast, leaving him breathless and panting and wholly unsatisfied. But at least the edge was gone and he wasn’t going to jump Jaskier the minute they were alone, dinner reservations forgotten, evening stroll on the beach tossed aside for something more immediate.

But for  _ fucks sake _ did he want that man.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Date night!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m overwhelmed by the response to this story. Thank you for reading and subscribing and dropping kudos and comments. I hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing it.

Jaskier passed the day in a haze, operating on basic commands. Feed and walk Dandi. Feed himself. Clean the house - and accidentally clean the toilet twice because he was so distracted. Finalize the invitations for the benefit gala, and have Sarat, his assistant, send them out over the weekend.

He would not, under any circumstances, sit on the couch and worry. Letting Geralt handle the details of this night was important - he was willingly letting someone else have control. Something he rarely let happen after Valdo. After he’d been controlled for two years. But he trusted Geralt, and that was all that mattered.

His phone’s alarm went off at 4 pm and Jaskier all but launched himself into the shower. He took his time, scrubbing with care. When his hand wandered near his ass, he paused. While definitely a switch, Jaskier’s two years being Valdo’s bottom had warped his sense of _normal_ . So the time with Lutz had been….invigorating. Jaskier smothered a laugh as he tried to ascribe _top_ to himself and found it didn’t quite work.

Switch it was, which meant he was soon bracing himself on the slick shower wall with a forearm, free hand dipping between his cheeks. Already getting hard, which wouldn’t do, he made it as quick and clinical as possible but it was hard to not moan a little. When Geralt had pinned him to the wall and kissed him senseless, he’d gotten a fairly decent feel for how much those tight jeans hid.

Cage thoroughly rattled, he set about preparing out his clothes, checking every inch for wrinkles and was almost disappointed when he didn’t find any. Pressing the jacket or pants would give him an outlet for his nervous energy. The deep plum shirt, deep grey pants and matching jacket, and textured vest were all pieces he and Lutz had hand picked. Everything fit him perfectly. He really hoped Geralt liked it.

(Lutz picked most of it out and Jaskier had just nodded and tried not to daydream about Geralt in a suit. Velen had a strict dress code.)

So instead, Jaskier wound up hyper-fixating on whether or not to shave, spending too long staring at his stubbled cheeks and even longer on making sure they were completely smooth once he’d decided.

Finally, _finally_ he was dressed and as ready as he could be. And it was only six o’clock. 

_Fuck_.

After triple checking Dandi’s food and water and letting her run herself ragged in the backyard, Jaskier was locking the patio door when his phone buzzed.

_From: Geralt_

_I can’t stand it any longer. I want to see you._

Jaskier nearly dropped his phone, hands suddenly numb with nerves. He fumbled with it for a moment before typing back. 

_From: Jaskier_

_Yes. Please._

Jaskier paced his living room, shaking out his hands and trying to remember how to breathe. This was not working. Oh gods. 

The doorbell rang and Jaskier let out a small, frustrated noise before flinging the door open. 

“Oh my god,” he said, staring.

“I could say the same.” Geralt was actually slack-jawed and Jaskier felt a rush of pride.

A beat, then two passed before Jaskier ushered him inside with a grin. “You look incredible,” he breathed, taking in the dark navy herringbone jacket and pants that fit Geralt like a second skin. His dove gray shirt made the navy blue look even darker and those amber eyes brighter. But what really drew Jaskier’s attention was the hint of chest hair over the two undone shirt buttons; just enough to add a roguish, naughty flair, which made his heart beat faster. Geralt’s hair was pulled back in a neat queue, but there was no hiding the luster of that pure snow white dappled with silver.

“I might faint,” he said softly, letting Geralt feel the weight of his blatant gaze. 

Geralt chuckled, his cheeks flushing pink under Jaskier’s compliments. “How do you think I feel? You look good enough to eat.”

Now Jaskier did sit down, Geralt suddenly beside him with a hand on his knee and both of them grinning like fools. He turned into Geralt’s warmth and the spicy, heady scent of his cologne. “Please tell me the car’s on its way.”

“Eager, hmmm?” Geralt’s fingers found his jaw and Jaskier could feel his will giving way under that simple touch. 

“It’s a little of wanting to spend as much time with you as possible, and a little more of wanting to take my time stripping you out of all that.” Jaskier leaned in just as Geralt did. 

“I’m very eager to get to later, too.” The hand on his knee tightened, then slid higher. 

Geralt’s lips found his cheek, then the corner of his mouth and Jaskier groaned. “If you leave me hanging,” he warned with a whisper, blue eyes sparking.

Geralt did not leave him hanging.

His lips were warm and dry, their kiss unhurried and delicate. It was, in Jaskier’s mind, like exploring a different kind of touch every time they did this. The urgency was always there, a current that crashed against rocks but never threatened to pull them under completely.

He felt no need to hurry their kiss, or deepen it. He only wanted to learn the shape of Geralt’s lips, the taste of him on his tongue. He wanted to imprint the sharp curve of Geralt’s jaw into his palm so that it always returned to the same spot. The one that made the other man sigh with pleasure.

He wanted to learn the shape of _him_ , to memorize it and return to it over and over again. Geralt murmured something against his lips, pulling Jaskier to him with gentle, but insistent, hands on his arms. 

Jaskier managed to make out, “Don’t want to muss you,” but he kept kissing Geralt. Kept up that steady, lovely pressure that yearned and flickered, instead of roaring brightly in the night.

“How long do we have?” He finally managed to ask, fingers tracing the shell of Geralt’s ear.

Mumbling an apology, Geralt pulled away and glanced at his watch. “Just a few minutes. They’ll call when the car’s here.”

“Good.” Jaskier pulled Geralt’s hand up to his cheek and pressed his lips to that broad palm. “I’m going to kiss you until they arrive.”

* * *

Jaskier had just given Dandelion dog treats and refilled her water when the sleek black town car pulled into Jaskier’s drive. A liveried driver waited for them with the door open. Geralt led him by the hand to the car, where the driver greeted them and helped them in before shutting the door. They were ensconced in a warm, cozy backseat, just enough room between them for the bottle of champagne and two plastic glasses.

“Geralt,” Jaskier murmured as they both reached for the bottle at the same time, their hands colliding. Geralt snorted but was grinning as Jaskier said, “You didn’t have to do all this.”

He shrugged. “But I wanted to. Figured we’d both appreciate it.”

Jaskier waved a hand at him airily, let Geralt have the bottle to open. “Oh sure, be _reasonable_.”

“Not when you’re around.” Geralt’s voice was low, resonate in that tight space and Jaskier sucked in a breath. “You make me lose my damn mind.”

He put a hand on Geralt’s knee and squeezed, heart too full and skin too tight to manage more than a simple request. “Come here.” Jaskier lunged for Geralt, giving the opaque barrier between them and the driver a single glance before focusing completely on his date. 

Thankfully the champagne hadn’t been opened yet; lacking anywhere to stash it that made sense, Geralt placed it on the floor while Jaskier set about wandering his hands over Geralt’s body. He dipped a hand inside the jacket he desperately wanted to take off, settling instead for pushing a palm into hard pectoral muscles, earning him an appreciative groan.

Geralt was gently combing his fingers through Jaskier’s hair, keeping the kiss soft and full of promise. Desire was easy to act on; being careful, being light and teasing wasn’t. It ached in Jaskier’s chest. Stole his breath. Made him dizzy. “We really are going to have a hard time tonight, aren’t we?” he gasped between tender kisses, feeling Geralt nod against him. 

* * *

Velen would have been an overpriced tourist trap if not for the simple, almost quaint luxury of a five star restaurant whose entrance was tucked into an alleyway. Their car did not stop on the street just beyond, however; it pulled behind the restaurant and was greeted by a woman in an exquisite beaded dress.

Jaskier gaped, looked at Geralt, and then grinned. “Oh my gods.” He tugged down his lapels, brushed invisible dirt from Geralt’s arm. “That’s Lucinda. She’s an old friend from the conservatory at Oxenfurt. I’ll be damned.”

The woman waved at them, smiling. Geralt’s heart swelled at the way Jaskier was smiling and reaching for the door handle. “Did you two study together?”

“We did. Cello to my violin.” His grin grew wider. “And I mean that literally. We were both second chairs in the university orchestra, so we often practiced together. I haven’t seen her in an age, though.”

Geralt slipped out behind Jaskier, suddenly nervous but shrugging it away as he was led over to where the woman stood. “My god, Julian!” The two hugged and she pulled back to look at him through kohl-lined eyes that glittered with joy. “I almost thought Raf was pulling my leg, so I figured I’d wait for this car to show up. Just in case he wasn’t being a rascal.”

Jaskier chuckled. “When is he not?”

“Ooof, so true.” Lucinda smiled back at Geralt, giving him an appreciative once over. “And I see he absolutely was not joking about the handsome man taking you on a date.” She fanned herself dramatically, but her smile was teasing, not biting. “What’s the saying? Damn, you’re a tall glass of water on a hot summer day.”

Jaskier snickered and drew Geralt closer so he could make introductions. As Geralt shook Lucinda’s hand, he caught the glint in Jaskier’s eye. The man was so happy, so full of life and love in the moment and he felt his chest tighten. 

“Well, come then,” she said, leading them to the back entrance. “I’ve made sure everything is all set up according to instructions. And I’m a bell ring away if you need anything.” She smiled wide. “I’m the floor manager here, so anything at all you need, you just ask.”

The hallway she took them into was warm and dark, with deep, plush carpet that soaked up the sound of their footsteps. The wall sconces were turned down low to give the illusion of candlelight, and the scent of red wine floated in the air. “Here we are,” she said, turning a corner and drawing back a curtain. “This is our private booth. Tableside service and a special wine menu have been arranged, but of course if you’d prefer cocktails, just let your waiter know.” Lucinda tapped a small silver bell with a perfectly manicured nail. “And again, if you need me, just ring and I’ll be right back.”

Jaskier accepted her cheek kiss with a one armed-hug, and Geralt braced himself for similar familiarity. But she threw him a wink and a cheeky smile before disappearing out the other side of the curtain. The booth they sank into was soft red velvet; its architecture a gentle curve so they could easily sit next to each other without needing to crane their necks or bump knees. This was clearly an intimate, special space and Geralt made a mental note to buy Lutz a nice bottle of something as a thank you.

“Bourbon,” Jaskier said, as if he knew what Geralt was thinking. “Bourbon, and I’ll show you what kind. He’ll love you forever for it.”

Geralt chuckled and started to lean into Jaskier’s touch when the curtain moved aside and a tall, thin man in his late forties or early fifties smiled at them and launched into a spiel about the various items on the menu.

Geralt listened politely, nodding when he felt it appropriate. But it was damn hard to pay attention to anything but the fingers dancing across his knee. Jaskier was playing his part perfectly, big blue eyes focused solely on the waiter - except when he threw Geralt a soft smile as the first round of wine was poured. “God, Lutz knows how to spoil us,” he said, swirling his goblet with one hand to watch the deep burgundy wine swish, then cling to the sides of the glass. 

“He’s a good friend,” Geralt said softly, watching Jaskier’s face as he took the first sip of wine. Pleasure blossomed on those features - features Geralt thought of as perfect - and as Jaskier opened his eyes, Geralt leaned in and kissed him.

Jaskier’s little noise of surprise melted into a sigh, his lips yielding under Geralt’s and that hand on his leg stroking slowly. He refused to buck into that touch, but he did run two fingers from the hinge of Jaskier’s jaw, sliding down to slip over his throat. Jaskier shivered against him, making Geralt hum in response. “Oh, you,” Jaskier whispered, grabbing at Geralt’s hand and kissing his palm. “ _You_ are so good to me.”

Geralt swallowed hard, finding courage to give voice to the thing he’d been thinking since he’d rang Jaskier’s doorbell. Before that, even. “Why does this not feel like a first date?”

Jaskier ducked his head, looked up at Geralt through dark lashes. “You mean, it feels like we’ve done this before?” When Geralt nodded, Jaskier bit his lip. “I know what you mean. Like…..”

“We’ve always been together.”

“Yeah.” Jaskier leaned back against Geralt. “I thought it was just me.”

He shook his head. “It’s not. It’s like we slotted so easily into each other’s lives….” Geralt paused, taking a long look at Jaskier and those blue eyes and rounded chin and soft lips. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

The smile Jaskier gave him could have cracked a rib, it hit so hard near his heart. “Me too.”

* * *

“I can’t eat anymore, I’ll burst.”

Jaskier chuckled, eyeballing the last bit of steak on Geralt’s plate. “You better finish that, or I will.”

Geralt speared the meat on his fork and held it up for Jaskier. “All yours.”

“Flirt.”

“Hmmm.” Geralt ran his hand up Jaskier’s thigh as he popped the steak into his mouth and watched him chew. “Let’s skip dessert.”

Jaskier swallowed and nodded quickly. “Yes.”

When their waiter came back to begin clearing plates, Geralt asked for the check and was waved off. “All handled. At Ms. Greyjoy’s pleasure.”

“Fuck,” Jaskier whispered, eyes wide. “Well, now I owe Lucinda, too.” He wiggled his eyebrows with a laugh. “I wonder if she and Raf bickered over the check like two toddlers.”

Geralt shook his head. “Neither of them should have done that.”

Jaskier reached over to squeeze his hand. “We’ll find a way to make it up to them both. I promise.”

The car - and their unopened champagne - was waiting for them, along with a grinning Lucinda. “You lucky bastard,” she whispered teasingly, loud enough for propriety but not quiet enough to escape Geralt’s notice. With a wink, she slipped a business card in Jaskier’s breast pocket and muttered a promise about giving them the best table whenever they wanted.

Something about the way Geralt was staring at him, amber eyes bright in the twilight, made Jaskier hold back a whimper of need. Gods, he wanted this man so much he practically burned with it. Felt consumed by it.

And then they were back in the car and the driver was asking for the next destination. It was hard to answer when Geralt was kissing his way down Jaskier’s neck, but he managed to say, “My house” before succumbing to the eager set of lips on his skin.

* * *

The bottle of champagne came with them as Jaskier and Geralt stumbled out of the car, clutching at each other. Geralt pressed a few bills into the driver’s hand with a hurried word of thanks before he followed Jaskier inside.

Geralt ducked around Jaskier as he shut the front door. “Lock it,” Geralt said in his ear, pressing against Jaskier’s backside, hands on the door beside his head. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Jaskier’s breath left him in a gust and Geralt could feel him press back, wiggling his ass against Geralt’s groin. “Oh my god,” he moaned, throwing his head back until Geralt began to nip at his neck. “Please.”

He dug his fingertips into the cool metal of the door, searching for something to ground him against the delicious heat of the man beneath him. “I have never wanted anyone so badly,” he said, half groaning the words, voice dark with need. “But I’m not fucking you against your front door.”

Geralt snagged Jaskier’s hand and pulled him to the stairs, their hurried footsteps making Dandelion bark from her spot in Jaskier’s room. Jaskier hushed her, giving her a pat on the head before Geralt shoved him backwards into that beautiful master bedroom and then stopped.

Jaskier turned, saw Geralt standing still, gaze hot on him. “Geralt?”

“I’m looking,” Geralt said softly. He reached up to pull at the tie in his hair, then tossed it aside. That curtain of gorgeous white hair was long enough to brush his shoulders and when Jaskier groaned at the sight, Geralt felt it hit him in the gut. “I want to look at you properly in that suit before I take you out of it.”

Jaskier arched an eyebrow at him, smirk forming on his perfect lips in a dare. “I’d prefer you over here _now_.” He began to turn in a slow circle, arms outstretched, posture ramrod straight. “But look if you must.”

And Geralt did look. The suit was finely tailored, a dark grey so deep it was nearly black. But the spill of plum blocked off by a textured vest brightened the entire ensemble. That purple also made it impossible to ignore those beckoning blue eyes or the way they shifted color in the light. Geralt wanted to watch them change, wanted to see them blown open with lust or fluttering closed in sleep.

And he could only assume he had Rafael to thank for the exquisite tailoring - so fitted and perfect that it hid nothing, including the hard ridge of Jaskier’s erection or the firm lines of his ass. He was a delectable treat in a three piece suit, looking every bit like he’d enjoy being slowly stripped out of every last stitch.

“Bonus to this is I get to look, too,” Jaskier purred, stepping closer. “Mmmm, you should wear more blue. It makes your eyes look gold.” He inhaled shaikly, sighed. “You are so pretty, Geralt.”

Now Geralt reached for him, pulling Jaskier forward by the lapels so he could crush their mouths together. Jaskier melted against him, into him, hands going into Geralt’s hair and twisting the strands between thin, delightfully clever fingers. He didn’t want to hold back anymore.

Geralt’s hands slid lower, cupping Jaskier’s ass and squeezing. Jaskier moaned into his mouth, breath hitching. “Please.” 

The jackets came off first, left draped over one of the chairs by the fireplace; then shoes toed off so they wouldn’t step on each other. “Let me light this thing,” Jaskier said, looking at Geralt through his lashes. “It’ll be dark soon and seeing you by firelight is something I don’t want to have to dream up.”

Geralt gripped the top of the chair hard, bit back a groan. He watched Jaskier fuss with the gas fireplace for a moment, then flick a switch on the wall. It popped, then roared to life, flames safely behind their glass barrier. “Better?” he asked, hedging closer, itching to pull Jaskier to him again.

“Very.” Jaskier tipped his head up in invitation and that was all Geralt needed. He tasted like wine and warmth and when Geralt licked his bottom lip, Jaskier opened to him so sweetly. Hands on his hips, Geralt steered them back to the bed. His entire body was one raw nerve, soothed only by the hands cupping his face and the plush lips under his. 

Geralt took them both down to the mattress and then Jaskier’s hands were everywhere. On his face, in his hair, tugging at the buttons on his shirt, dancing over his collarbone. A pair of slim hips bucked into his and Geralt tore away, panting. “Fuck. Jaskier.”

“Yeah, me too.” Deft fingers were undoing his shirt, pulling the hem out of his pants. “Feels like we’ve been waiting forever.”

“It does.” Geralt dipped to kiss him once more, sending Jaskier’s hands flying up to grab at his biceps. They rolled together playfully on the bed, no one truly fighting for any kind of dominance. Geralt knew Jaskier would let him do whatever he wanted, but this was new and tender and he was rather good at taking instruction.

“Tell me,” he said in Jaskier’s ear, earning him a full body shiver. “Tell me what you want.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The date continues....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double posting Friday! I didn't want to leave anyone uh...hanging ;)
> 
> SO MUCH SMUT but it's mostly really tender and almost made me cry writing it.

“You. Just you.” Jaskier ran his fingers over the hollow of Geralt’s throat. “That’s all I want.” He ran his fingertips over the stubble on Geralt’s jaw, feeling its rasp prickle the sensitive skin. Geralt turned into the touch, his eyes closing as he let Jaskier explore. “Geralt.”

Geralt’s eyes eased open, those brown-gold irises breathtaking in the firelight. “Show me.”

Jaskier’s heart could hardly take it. Those words, so soft and so heady with desire, filled his senses. That and the scent of the man above him; the scent of his skin and his hair and that bit of clove and amber that lingered on his neck. He pulled Geralt down on him, eager to set his lips to that enticing line of collarbone.

Geralt inhaled quickly, swore sharply. But Jaskier only hummed in response and kept mouthing the skin of his clavicle, painting slow, lazy circles into Geralt’s back with his fingertips, letting them spiral lower and lower. Breath hitched in his lungs, Geralt pressed him into the mattress and groaned as Jaskier found the skin below his shirt. The top buttons of Jaskier’s shirt were already undone from their earlier fumblings but now Geralt was slowly popping them free, one after the other.

Every button destroyed another thread of Jaskier’s self control and only because Geralt looked so intent on his task did he stay still. He did bring up his leg on the outside of Geralt’s hip, letting his knee brush Geralt’s side. The other man’s quick intake of breath and flash of eyes heavy with desire made Jaskier bite back a groan.

Shirt splayed open, he lay beneath Geralt - vulnerable and so eager for his touch. “Show me,” Geralt said, holding his hands out to Jaskier. With a feverish nod, Jaskier guided Geralt’s hands down to his chest, pressing those broad, blunt fingers over his pectorals to skate over puckered nipples. The contact immediately made him arch with a hiss and those gold eyes flickered up to his face. “Jaskier?”

“More.” It was a hoarse whisper, and all he could manage to spit out while his entire being throbbed with desire. “Anything. Everything. Anything you’ll give me.”

He was met with insistent lips on his, and the warmth of Geralt’s touch on his chest. Those fingers played about his nipples, plucking and gently twisting, making him buck and writhe. But when Geralt’s lips left his and set about wandering a hot, wet path over his neck and then down, Jaskier could only think about holding on and arching into those touches. 

Geralt was licking a trail over his sternum when he looked up. “Okay?”

He nodded quickly, dizzy with lust and drunk on the feel of  _ everything _ . He tugged at Geralt’s shirt, the force of his grip wrinkling the material. “Off. All of it.” And when he hooked a thumb into the corner of Geralt’s mouth, he couldn’t stop his gasp when Geralt pulled it in and ran his tongue over it. “I want to see you.”

Jaskier’s heart was pounding in his ears and his pants were edging on the verge of too tight, but watching Geralt’s face crumple with want made something snap in his chest. There was no hesitation, no worry - just unadulterated sweetness mixed with desire. Jaskier was a thousand percent sure he’d never been looked at like that before.

He never wanted anyone else to ever look at him that way, or any other way. He only wanted Geralt.

Their clothes were gone in a matter of moments, Jaskier initiating a flurry of messy kisses and shaking fingers. When they were both kneeling on his bed, naked and panting, Jaskier reached out to trace the shape of Geralt’s lips with his thumb and then they were kissing again but this was slow. Unhurried. It lingered on the edges of his mind, suffusing everything in warmth, like being wrapped in wool on a cold day. The fire flickered and cast shadows all around them, bathing their forms in soft orange light.

Geralt was built like a living god - tall and broad and bulging in all the right places. Jaskier let his gaze rake over all that skin and muscle but when Geralt flushed under his attentions, Jaskier turned his face back so he could watch those amber eyes darken, those kiss-bit lips part. “There you go,” he crooned, thumbing at that bottom lip. 

Geralt nuzzled into his hand, tongue flicking out to taste his palm. Jaskier whimpered and Geralt must have taken that as a sign, because he ran his hand lower, brushing the hair on Jaskier’s chest.

Lower again, to travel near his navel, following that trail of hair.

“Please.” It’s all he could manage, the word broken on a hoarse throat and shaking breath.

The first touch of Geralt’s fingers on his cock made him keen. Jaskier threw his head back against that simple sensation - but there wasn’t a damn thing simple about it. Not really. It was fire up his spine, throwing his hips forward, making him clutch at Geralt’s shoulders.

“You like that?” Geralt’s voice was silk on his overheated skin, driving him almost as mad as the fist slowly working his prick. He was keeping his grip light, testing Jaskier’s reactions.

“Yes,” he managed to stutter out, grabbing those magnificent shoulders even more. 

“God you feel like...fuck, I don’t even know. Just perfect. Everything.” Geralt was staring at him in awe, eyes flicking between his face and his cock. A thumb smeared around the head, teased his slit, and Jaskier moaned, already shaking with need. Geralt was lighting him up like a holiday tree. “I got you. Promise.”

Jaskier nodded as he bit his lip and held on as best he could, watching the deep concentration on Geralt’s face as he worked him slowly, thoroughly. Jaskier felt himself shake almost uncontrollably and he motioned to bed. “I need to -“

“I got you,” Geralt said again as he wrapped his other arm around Jaskier’s back, taking them both down. Jaskier moaned at the loss of Geralt’s hand on his cock, but was grateful to lay down so his quivering muscles didn’t have to work any more.

Geralt stretched out beside him, touching him gently. Jaskier groaned and rolled into him, pulling Geralt into another kiss. He let his hands roam, seeking all the places that made Geralt’s breath hitch, his pulse quicken. But he ignored the hard length poking him in the hip. At least for now.

They pulled out of the kiss, breathless, panting, grinning at each other. “Geralt,” he whispered, his heart near to bursting. His hand wandered lower, following the line of hip and thigh that was too tempting not to touch. “You’re destroying me, you know that?”

Geralt chuckled, carded his fingers through Jaskier’s hair and making him hum happily. “How do you think I feel? No one warned me my new neighbor was so hot.” He brushed his lips over Jaskier’s cheek and he couldn’t stop the sigh that escaped his lips. “So kind. So generous.”

He was going to fuse with the mattress if Geralt kept doing this, speaking this gently, this sweetly to him. Jaskier could feel the months and years of tension melt away; of walking on eggshells, of trying to keep his partner happy and neglecting himself. All of it dissolving under the touch of a man who truly cared.

He was definitely falling in love.

Heart fit to bursting, Jaskier rolled on top of Geralt and began kissing him with all the passion he’d kept bottled up for years. What had settled into easy, gentle warmth flared to life once more and his kiss became eager and hungry. Geralt groaned beneath him, hands suddenly possessive on his body. Fingers slipped into the dip of muscle near his groin and he moaned, making Geralt clutch him even tighter in response.

Jaskier pulled away to look once more at Geralt, taking in the heavy hooded eyes and flushed cheeks. “Do you want to -“

He nodded quickly, that white hair shifting across dark blue sheets. “But I want you inside me.”

Jaskier’s eyes widened in delighted surprise. “Seriously?”

Geralt looked away. “If not, that’s -“

“It’s more than okay,” Jaskier said quickly, cupping Geralt’s face with his hands. “I’m just not used….hell, any of this. You surprised me but not in a bad way.” Geralt’s smile came back, slow and lazy, and Jaskier laughed. “You constantly surprise me. I like it.”

_ You make me crazy. You taste so good against my lips, on my tongue. Your body fits mine like it was made for me. For us. _

The words caught in his throat, desperate for escape, but he couldn’t speak them aloud. If he said all that and this fell apart….

It’d be worse than Valdo. It might shatter him into a million pieces and never let him be whole again.

Jaskier didn’t want to think about that now. He pushed it all aside, let his gaze scrape Geralt raw with need. He ran delicate touches over peaked nipples, getting a hiss of pleasure in response. Geralt thrashed beneath him, moaning and panting, skin pink from the fire and the blood thrumming to the surface. 

He let the torture go on for another long minute and once Geralt’s grip was biting, he surged forward to rummage in the nightstand. His partner only stared, eyes wide in the firelight. Jaskier came back to kneel between thick thighs, smoothing a palm up one while coating his fingers in the little pot of slick that hadn’t seen near enough action of late.

“I have to know,” he purred, smirking. When Geralt tilted his head, Jaskier leaned forward and licked up his cock, sucking lightly on the tip, tongue dancing over the slit. Geralt cursed loudly, hands digging into Jaskier’s hair. He gave a grunt of approval, looking up so he could watch those cupid bow lips slide apart in a gasp. It took every bit of concentration he had, but Jaskier slid his slick fingers lower and lower still, until Geralt jolted under his touch.

Jaskier pressed a kiss to the inside of one bent knee and at Geralt’s nod, pressed down. Lower. Softer.

Geralt gasped and thrust his hips into the air, drawing his legs closer to his torso as Jaskier pulled his mouth away from that glorious cock. Geralt barely managed to groan Jaskier’s name before he was pressing against that tight ring of muscle. Jaskier was cognizant of every breath, every moan, every twitch. 

The painstaking slowness, the care, the way Geralt’s body accepted him….it was all so, so much. He wanted to stay locked in this moment forever, curling his fingers into that dark heat.

If one finger made Geralt buck in pleasure, two was sending him into apoplexies of undulating desire. But those eyes were soft on Jaskier, even under the intensity of his own desperation. Jaskier touched and fondled and pressed kisses to anywhere he could reach. But when Geralt grabbed for his hand and interlocked their fingers, he gasped. 

“Please,” Geralt said, the word almost lost in the pop of the fire and his heaving breaths.

Jaskier fell over him, pulling his fingers free as gently as he could. His heart hurt, watching the beautiful man beneath him writhe and plead. He nodded quickly, running his hands back down Geralt’s thighs and bending slightly. 

Jaskier wanted him so much he felt like he’d combust.

Sliding into Geralt’s body took patience Jaskier never thought he’d have. “It’s been a while,” Geralt said, voice tight.

“If it hurts, we can stop.”

Geralt grinned at him ferally. “Doesn’t hurt, not the way you prepped me.” Jaskier flushed, making Geralt laugh. “Just feels weird. I uh….don’t usually do this myself.”

It was such an honest, awkward thing to say Jaskier couldn’t help but chuckle. “You’ve nothing to worry about,” he said softly before pushing in a tiny bit more. Geralt’s own laugh was cut off as the head of Jaskier’s cock popped in, making them both groan loudly.

The air between them shifted. An urgent heat flared to life and as Jaskier looked down, Geralt grabbed for him again, nodding fervently. “More.”

Jaskier let Geralt take his weight between their joined hands and sunk slowly - painstakingly slowly - into Geralt’s body. “You feel so good,” he murmured, nearly overcome. It was like having his brain lit up in only the places that dealt in sensation: he could smell Geralt’s skin, taste him on his tongue, feel his warmth wrapped around him. It coated his mind like alcohol, but better than that. More honest, more real. He savored every gasp, every moan.

When he finally bottomed out, Geralt let out a wounded growl and Jaskier began to move. It was slow, like everything else they’d done tonight. And from Geralt’s little pants and moans, he was also feeling it.

Desire. Connection. Trust.

Jaskier rolled his hips, sinking even deeper, and fell forward to catch his weight on his hands. Geralt was immediately touching him, running his palms over Jaskier’s arms, curling his fingers into his hair. With a grin, he kissed Geralt over and over again, savoring every hitched breath.

When he hit that glorious little spot deep inside, Geralt let out a cry and began shuddering, so Jaskier didn’t stop. Didn’t wait. The slick slide of their bodies, the sound of skin hitting skin, the deep flush blooming on Geralt’s chest, the sweat rolling down his back as he took Geralt’s pleasure and made it his own….

“Oh god,” Jaskier said, practically keening with need while Geralt held onto him. He managed to get a hand between them and wrap his fingers around Geralt’s cock, watching with pride as Geralt’s eyes shot wide and he groaned.

“Fuck.  _ Fuck _ . Not going to last,” Geralt managed to say between heavy, ragged breaths. He pulled Jaskier even closer with his thighs, with fingernails that bit into his flesh.

“So don’t.” Jaskier wasn’t going to last much longer either. “Want to watch you come.”

Geralt threw his head back, shivering. Scrabbling for Jaskier’s touch. Their eyes met and Geralt let go, striping his chest with seed and moaning Jaskier’s name. Jaskier’s brain buzzed with pleasure at the feel of Geralt clenching around him. He followed him down, his orgasm leaving him hot and cold, shaking and groaning. 

Immediately overcome and sucking in great gasps like his lungs wouldn’t fill properly, Jaskier felt big, strong hands stabilize him. Holding on. Supporting him.

Geralt was blissed out, eyes nearly shut, fingers clenched around Jaskier’s arms. “You okay?” Jaskier asked, running a soothing hand over Geralt’s hip.

“Hmmm. Yes. Absolutely.” One eye slid open as Geralt smiled. “Thought I might black out for a second.”

“Glad you didn’t,’ he replied, smirking before stealing another kiss. And another.

Minutes later, Jaskier was wrapped in Geralt’s arms, sated and warm. “You are perfect,” Geralt whispered in his ear. 

Jaskier turned to claim another kiss, staring at Geralt in the near dark. “Thank you,” he whispered sleepily, nuzzling into Geralt’s neck and feeling him sigh in return. 

Geralt smoothed his palm over Jaskier’s shoulder, kissed his forehead. “For what?”

“Everything.”

* * *

Pressed to swear to it, Rafael would tell the curious-minded that he wasn’t nervous. Hells, he could probably pass a polygraph test on that lie. But he was  _ so fucking nervous _ he almost told Eskel to drive them back to his place. And that would have been a grave error in judgment.

Instead, he stood facing the ocean, letting the salt air toy with his coat collar and tried to ignore his ghastly nerves. “I’m guessing Geralt blabbed, huh? Which means Jaskier knows, which is how you know.”

Eskel’s voice in his ear was playful, and those broad hands started to span his waist. Raf let his eyes flutter shut at the touch. “Hmmm, you would be correct,” he said, tipping his head back so his temple could rest against Eskel’s jaw. “We don’t have to do this.”

“Nah, it’s good. More than good. Lambert and I always danced around each other, but we figured fuckbuddies wasn’t a bad place to land.” He leaned away from Lutz, giving him an assessing stare. “I’m a bit surprised by you, though.”

He leaned into the firm touch that was sliding lower, to his hips. “I think the question ought to be if Lambert’s going to run screaming into the night.”

“He wouldn’t be pulling into the parking lot if he didn’t want to be here.” And sure enough, the rumble of a truck drew their attention. They both spotted Lambert’s little utility four wheel drive truck, its dark blue paint nearly hiding it from view in the gathering twilight. 

“I would have loved to overhear that conversation,” he teased, reaching up to thumb at Eskel’s bottom lip.

Eskel shrugged but grinned. “Lambert’s an easy going guy. A lot like you in that regard.” Eskel dropped his head, pressed a kiss to Lutz’s mouth. “Stop worrying.”

He spluttered. “I’m not worrying! Absolutely not.”

“Uh huh.” Eskel kissed him again, this time with more force, more passion. Lutz melted on the spot, letting himself be pulled into Eskel’s arms. After a few heart-stopping moments, a wolf whistle echoed from across the way and was quickly swallowed by the thrashing waves below. 

“Someone told me two hotties were out here kissing and fondling each other,” Lambert said, ambling up with a slow, easy stride that somehow made Lutz’s heart beat faster. “So I had to come see for myself.”

Raf pressed a finger to Eskel’s lips. “No jokes about coming.”

“He said come, not  _ coming _ .” But Eskel was snickering and Raf rolled his eyes.

“Also heard my little lovebirds were interested in something a bit more…” Lambert stopped just in front of them, eyes hot on Lutz. “Kinky. So I figure, I’m an open minded kind of guy, curious to see where this all leads.”

Lutz knew a few things about Lambert - he was brash, quick to anger, but also kept his friends extra close and pushed everyone else away. He had horrible taste in jokes, liked being handsy if he had permission from the other party - or parties - involved, and really like whiskey.

And apparently had a soft spot for one dark haired man named Eskel.

Lutz watched as Eskel curled a hand into the high collar of Lambert’s jacket and, with a wink, kissed him. 

Oh that was…. _ hot _ . 

Really, really hot. 

He’d experienced the entire catalog of Eskel’s kisses and found each one delightful in its own way, but watching him slowly, sensually kiss another man right in front of him - while he had an arm around Raf’s waist - was intense. Embers of desire stirred in his gut, pushing aside all thoughts of nervousness.

Eskel let the kiss slowly drop but pressed his forehead into Lambert’s like they’d done that maneuver a thousand times. “You in?” Lambert asked, gaze hot on Raf.

“Fuck yes.” 

“Dirty little bird, aren’t you?” Lambert purred, hooking two fingers into Raf’s coat pocket and tugging him forward. Eskel shifted to make room but didn’t let go of either of them. “Eskel said this was your idea, little bird.”

Raf scoffed and tossed his head. “I’m no one’s  _ little bird _ . Mind your tongue.”

“Mind it for me.”

_ Fucking fuck that shouldn’t be so hot _ . It was a bad line from any number of pornos and yet Raf found himself yanked forward until a pair of warm, chapped lips slid over his. He heard Eskel hum in appreciation at the sight and Raf let himself be kissed oh so thoroughly by Lambert. He expected the other man to fight for dominance, to grip him hard. But Lambert seemed more than happy to let Raf lead once the kiss started. 

He gave the seam of Lambert’s lips an experimental flick with his tongue and the grip on his coat tightened, a groan stumbling out between their mouths. “He likes it slow,” Eskel said in his ear, surprise and warm breath making Raf gasp a little. “Kiss him good, and then we should probably not be out in public.”

“Agreed,” Raf panted, tipping his head back to let Lambert nose along his jaw. “But this one seems intent on destroying me right now.”

“You might have mentioned he was this easy,” Lambert said, eyebrow arched at Eskel.

“Hardly.” Raf’s scoff was back, but he was grinning. Anything to distract from the growing tent in his pants. “I made him finish a game of chess the first time.” 

Lambert’s laugh cracked open across the cliff even as his hand wandered lower, to the small of Raf’s back. “Fingers crossed Geralt and Jaskier are having as good a night as we are about to.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eskel, Lambert, and Raf come together; Geralt and Jaskier enjoy a lazy morning.
> 
> AKA a bunch more smut

It might be a shock to anyone who knew him - barring Jaskier, of course - that Raf wasn’t a complete hedonist. He’d had his fair share of lovers, even a few serious relationships that had been promising. He liked art, loved wine, and enjoyed good food and lovely company. He could be as much at home in a boardroom as he was in a dive bar.

But a threesome always seemed so _messy_. Physically difficult, mechanically overcomplicated, emotionally wretched. He shied away from that scene as much as possible, even though he’d had a fair share of invites over the years. It also took a shitload of trust, something Raf had never really felt with all partners involved.

This was different. It just was. Eskel was unlike anyone he’d ever met; tall, ruggedly handsome, delectably touch-starved, one fucking hell of a kisser. Lambert was gruff, scruffy, a bit of a smartass, and yet so beautifully needy. Also, very touch-starved. 

He was learning that last thing right now, as Lambert shoved him against the wall of Eskel’s bedroom and sucked a mark into his neck. “Fuck,” Lambert growled against his skin, hips thrusting, not even stilling when Eskel trapped him between their bodies. 

Raf realized he’d been missing out on all this proper excitement, what with two sets of lips and hands fondling and kissing. “Told you,” Eskel said with a grin, looking at Lutz over Lambert’s shoulder. “Didn’t I?”

Raf sucked in a greedy breath, giving him enough mental space to spear Eskel with a curious look. “About?”

“You taste good,” Lambert said between little nips at his skin, chuckling at Raf clung to him. “Eskel said you were the best thing he’d ever had, next to me.”

Raf couldn't even scoff. Lambert’s mouth was skilled, his tongue moreso. “You two are horrible,” he said, voice much stronger than he felt as Lambert picked apart his ironclad self control.

Which was hilarious because he had scores of self-control, but not often a willingness to heed it.

Lambert was tugged away by Eskel and Raf followed in their wake, snaking a hand over Lambert’s ass with a dark chuckle. “I was rather enjoying that wall,” he teased.

Eskel waited until they were in his room together before rounding on Raf, pinning him to the wall by the door. “How’s this one?” he asked while Lambert snuck up beside them.

“Passable, I suppose.”

“Brat,” Lambert said as he leaned against the wall and began toying with Raf’s belt. “Kinda feel like we should punish him.”

Raf nodded quickly to keep from panting with need. It wouldn’t be good to be so desperate quite so soon. “Oh, yes, please do that. I’m a horrible person, absolutely terrible. I deserve to be punished.”

Eskel’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline while Lambert snickered at Raf’s brazenness. “Dirty,” Eskel said as he leaned in, bracing his hands on the wall by Raf’s head. “Maybe we’ll make you watch.”

He could only whimper in response, drawing a velvety chuckle from Lambert. “I think he likes that, Esk. Come here.” 

Raf was trapped between them and the wall, hemmed in by muscles and warmth as Eskel and Lambert kissed. It stoked the fire in Raf’s belly, made his fingers itch to touch….

So he did.

He ran a hand up Eskel’s arm and hooked his fingers into Lambert’s belt. “Don’t forget me,” he purred.

“Hard to do that,” Eskel said as he broke off the kiss with Lambert, pinning him with a stare.

“Too pretty to forget,” Lambert agreed through slightly swollen lips. His gaze flicked down to Raf’s fingers in his belt and he grinned. “And if that’s a promise….”

“Very much so.” Gods, his head spun with possibilities. Is _this_ what he’d been missing out on this entire time? Time to rectify that near-fatal miscalculation. “I find the unknown to be deeply tempting. And you are both delectable, so shall we?”

Raf pulled them both by the hand into Eskel’s bedroom and made a move to shut the door behind them. He didn’t get very far.

“Gonna put that gorgeous mouth to good use,” Lambert said, voice hot with desire as he traced Raf’s bottom lip. Eskel was behind him, suddenly, stealthily (how did such a big man move so quietly?) and his hands were snaking down the line of buttons on Raf’s shirt, flipping them open with ruthless efficiency.

“I feel a bit at disadvantage here.” Raf tried to sound put out but really his body was one tight bowstring of desire.

“Good.”

His knees absolutely would not go weak at the edge in Lambert’s voice. While Eskel stripped them, Raf got lost in the taste of Lambert’s mouth. The hands on his zipper drew his attention back to the man slinking around them. “You’re enjoying that.”

Eskel grinned wide and bright. “I’m good with my hands.”

“Bit more than just your hands, darling.”

Lambert huffed a laugh against Raf’s pulse point. “Did he do that thing where he licks the inside of your thighs?” At Raf’s nod, his laugh grew. “Turns me into mush every time.”

“Are you two gonna keep talking about my prowess or come get some?”

They both turned to see Eskel toss his pants aside before leaning back on his elbows on the bed. “Going to make me watch?” Raf asked, feeling a delicious twist in his gut as he eyed the proud jut of Eskel’s cock.

Lambert shoved him forward, sending him sprawling a tad inelegantly over Eskel. And then Lambert was behind him and there was a hand on his cock and another digging blunt nails into the meat of his ass.

Raf didn’t ask any more questions after that.

**_To read the rest of this scene, go to Chapter 14_**

* * *

Geralt woke up to a warm mouth latched onto the spot below his ear and fingertips skating over his side. “ ‘S early,” he mumbled sleepily, pulling Jaskier even closer.

“Uh huh.” More mouthing, and then a tongue flicking out to taste him.

There was a hard length poking him in the hip but Jaskier didn’t seem to have any interest in speeding things up. Geralt burrowed into the little ripples of sensation Jaskier was causing, but he kept his hold loose. “Mmmm, Jask,” he said softly, turning his head to the side, letting Jaskier have better access. 

“This okay?”

Geralt glanced down at those steel blue eyes, still heavy from sleep, and delightfully mussed hair that made his fingers twitch with want. “Very.” He frowned suddenly, glancing around. “I didn’t hurt you in the middle of the night, did I?”

Jaskier mimicked the frown. “No. Why would you - oh, understood. But no. I woke up a few times and you were out cold.”

“Huh.” There had been dreamless nights in the past; they occurred more as the years wore on and his memories grew fuzzy at the edges. “Okay, good. I should have thought of that.”

“Hush.” Jaskier pressed a finger to his lips. “Don’t worry your head over that right now.” A hand wandered low over his side but kept well away from his hips, something Geralt might have complained about if Jaskier hadn’t been so thorough in all his other ministrations.

He gave it three minutes before someone got rolled onto their back and fucked.

Jaskier lasted exactly ninety seconds before he was throwing a leg over Geralt’s and sliding down his body with ease, lips hot on his skin. Geralt finally got to card his fingers through that hair, making Jaskier’s eyes roll up in obvious pleasure.

The lower down Geralt’s body he went, the more flushed Jaskier’s face became.

When he nosed through Geralt’s pubic hair, humming happily, Geralt threw an arm over his eyes with a groan. “ _Damn it all_ ,” he cursed, voice weak.

Jaskier grinned. “It’s so strange, I’m not usually a morning person.” 

Geralt watched Jaskier run his tongue over the side of his cock and tried not to thrust forward. “Does this mean we’re going to - _oh fuck you_ -” He choked on his own words as Jaskier swallowed him down.

* * *

“I would throw us both in the shower if I could move.”

Jaskier limply swatted at Geralt’s ass with a laugh. “Pffft, who needs to move when my bed is amazing?”

Geralt found he couldn’t argue with that and yet…. 

When Jaskier caught sight of the wicked glimmer in his eyes, he gave Geralt’s chest a weak shove. “You should not have any energy left.”

Geralt gently pushed on his side until Jaskier obliged and rolled over. “Mmmph,” he said into the pillows, making Geralt laugh. 

“You can close your eyes if you want,” Geralt said softly, running his palms over Jaskier’s back. 

“Now that sounds dangerous,” Jaskier teased, shooting him _a look_ over his shoulder. “Going to lick me clean, then?”

“That was the idea.”

Jaskier gaped at him. Full on jaw-dropped, eyes shot wide, brows nearly into his hairline. “You’re serious.”

He nodded. He _wanted_ this. “If that’s all right.”

Jaskier’s mouth opened and closed a few times, no words uttered for a long beat. Finally he managed to croak, “Well, if you must.”

Geralt did, in fact, _must_. He licked and nipped his way down Jaskier’s back, feeling muscle and bone shift beneath his tongue and lips, delighting in silky moan Jaskier let out. But when he bit down on Jaskier’s tailbone, the other man yelped, bucking back into his touch. “Stay,” he warned gently.

Jaskier could only whimper in response.

To both their benefits, Geralt considered himself a power bottom who switched for the right person. Hard to say no to being on top when Jaskier begged so sweetly. 

That also meant Jaskier was a mess. Geralt was more than happy to clean him up with his tongue.

The broken sob from Jaskier’s lips stirred his cock in a way that shouldn’t have happened. 

Geralt shushed him, gripped his hips, and buried his face in Jaskier’s ass, licking up sweat and spend and making Jaskier writhe in undisguised bliss.

* * *

_That afternoon_

“Rainy and cloudy and yet still a beautiful day,” Jaskier murmured as he hooked his arm into Geralt’s before they walked down the beach.

“Sorry for not getting out here last night,” Geralt said, watching the wind tousle Jaskier’s hair.

“You owe me less than zero apologies, Geralt.” He leaned in to kiss Geralt’s cheek. “And you worry too much.”

“You sound like Ciri.”

Jaskier laughed. “Well then we’re both right, aren’t we?” He cast his eyes up at the cloudy-coated sky. “Besides, last night would have probably been a bit cold for my tastes. No harm done.”

Geralt smiled. “Not a fan of the cold?”

He shivered dramatically. “I actually like winter, it’s the cold I can’t get past. Once cold, never warm again. For months. Woe is me.”

Geralt leaned in close. “Looks like you need someone to keep you warm.”

Jaskier snuck a brief kiss. “You offering?”

“Absolutely.”

He hummed. “Smart, gorgeous, generous. Any other shining characteristics I need to know about?” Geralt’s hand slid down his spine and came to rest just above his cleft. Jaskier sucked in a deep breath, let the wind steal some of it as he turned wild eyes to Geralt. “If you even hint at me only getting _part_ of that particular talent this morning, I’m going to faint and you’ll have to carry me back.”

The hand above his ass slid lower, then squeezed. “I could always drop you in the ocean to wake you back up.”

Jaskier danced away on light feet, smiling. “Don’t you even - _aahh_!”

Geralt rushed him, making Jaskier take off down the beach. Geralt must have not realized he’d run track in high school and still flirted with the sport on occasion, because soon he was leading Geralt on a merry chase, scattering seagulls from their path. The beach was empty on such a chilly late autumn day, leaving them free to carouse.

Geralt did manage to get a handful of Jaskier’s fleece jacket, spinning him around so they were staring at each other, panting and red-cheeked. Jaskier took the opportunity to jump him, taking them both down to the sand with a grunt. He rolled atop Geralt and kissed him breathless, digging sandy fingers into his hair.

“Filthy again,” he tutted, trying not to snicker at how Geralt immediately went boneless beneath him.

The look Geralt gave him felt like it could melt his very bones.“So fix it.”

* * *

_From: Raf_

_Please tell me last night went so well you two made it a weekend thing._

_  
From: Jaskier _

_You have no idea_

_From: Raf_

_Thank all the gods_

_From: Jaskier_

_Worried about me?_

_From: Raf_

_Only a little. Not you two specifically just….checking_

_From: Jaskier_

_Yu’re ridiculous._

_From Jaskier:_

_*You’re!* Fucking autocorrect not working_

_From: Raf_

_Wait until I tell you about my Saturday night._

_From Jaskier_

_Busy banging Eskel?_

_From: Raf_

_Why do you constantly underestimate me?_

Raf stared at his phone, which only showed Jaskier’s reply ellipses for several long minutes. Or at least what felt like several long minutes; time he spent occupying himself with Eskel’s hair, twisting it around his fingers while Lambert lazily kissed him.

“Bragging on us?” Lambert asked, mouth lifting in a smirk.

Raf shifted under the sheets, feeling his cock stir. “Why wouldn’t I? You’re both remarkable.”

_  
From: Jaskier _

_No way._

_From: Raf_

_Pardon?_

_From: Jaskier_

_Rafael Lutz, don’t you fucking play with me._

_From: Raf_

_Been there, done that._

Raf snickered, could practically hear Jaskier’s groan.

_From: Jaskier_

_Are you still there?_

_From: Raf_

_Gleefully sandwiched between them. Neither snore. It’s glorious._

_From: Jaskier_

_SHUT THE FUCK UP_

“I’ll handle that,” Eskel said, snatching the phone from Raf’s hands and tackling him to the bed. Raf let himself be pinned, let Eskel run hot, hungry touches over his body, let Lambert kiss him like he needed the extra oxygen in his lungs.

And when Eskel stared at him with wanton, dark eyes, the buzzing of his phone was completely forgotten.


	14. Option threesome scene from Chapter 13

“Are you two gonna keep talking about my prowess or come get some?”

They both turned to see Eskel toss his pants aside before leaning back on his elbows on the bed. “Going to make me watch?” Raf asked, feeling a delicious twist in his gut as he eyed the proud jut of Eskel’s cock.

Lambert shoved him forward, sending him sprawling a tad inelegantly over Eskel. And then Lambert was behind him and there was a hand on his cock and another digging blunt nails into the meat of his ass.

Raf didn’t ask any more questions after that.

“Not fair,” he choked out as Lambert’s cock slid against the cleft of his ass. Those nails dug in more, edging on pain but Raf leaned into the touch anyways. If this was the game they wanted to play…..

He leaned _away_ from Lambert, bending over Eskel and making the other man shiver under his touch. “I do enjoy not being the only pretty one here,” he purred, scratching at the thick hair on Eskel’s chest. “And this truly remarkable specimen under me is quite the sight.”

The heat of Lambert behind him was searing, but what caught him off guard was the low chuckle pulled deep from the other man’s chest. “Oh, then we’re gonna play,” Lambert said, running a finger down Raf’s spine.

“Says you,” Raf sniped before turning his attentions back to Eskel. 

Eskel, for his part, seemed to be enjoying the little back and forth between Raf and Lambert. He laced his fingers behind his head and let Raf touch at his pleasure. Seeing such a big, strong man lay before him, confident enough in himself to let someone else steer their encounter, did _something_ in Raf’s brain. “I feel like I’m missing the plot here,” he said, a touch of self-consciousness worming its way into his gut. “Should I-“

“Don’t you fucking move.” The command in Lambert’s voice hit him hard, forcing breath from Raf’s lungs in a gust. “Your job is to be pretty right there between us, little bird.”

Raf’s cock twitched and he whined, reaching a hand back to Lambert, who grabbed it immediately. “That’s...unexpected,” he said, voice cracking under the strain of sudden arousal. “I uh….hmmm.”

“I had a feeling about you. So pretty, so sensitive.” Lambert was rumbling in his ear now, the sound thrumming through Raf’s body like a perfectly plucked instrument. Then Lambert’s hands were on him, guiding him down to the bed as Eskel turned on his side to make room. 

Raf stared up at Lambert, feeling the flush building in his face. “What feeling?”

“Bossy in real life doesn’t always mean bossy in the bedroom,” Eskel said as he reached out to trace Raf’s jawline. “You and I give and take but Lambert here has some... let’s say _authority_ in these matters.”

Lambert slithered up Raf’s body, kneeling over him. “Unless you don’t want that. Wouldn’t force you into anything you didn’t want.”

The concern on Lambert’s face, combined with Eskel’s gentle touch, pulled at some sensation deep in his brain. It was like finding that single missing puzzle piece, making the whole picture clearer. He did want this, both of them; Eskel with his easy ways and giving nature, and the firecracker of Lambert’s domineering presence. 

Ebb and flow. Push and pull. He could lean one way and get certain desires fulfilled, then lean the other way and find a new bevy of delights.

Raf ran a hand up Lambert’s chest and used the other to pull Eskel closer. “Yes. I want it. Both of you.” That self doubt flickered to life again, a candle spluttering in the wind. “But I’m not sure how this all works.”

“Had some thoughts on that.” Lambert returned his touches, thumbing at Raf’s bottom lip. “You want someone to make you beg for it, you grab me. And when you need a breather, or someone to be a little more gentle, you grab Eskel.”

Raf shifted under him. “Do I need a safeword or something?”

“Yes.” There was no question in Lambert’s tone, no waver. “Make it easy. Nothing you’d normally say during sex.”

Raf said the first thing that came to mind. “Tent.”

“That works,” Eskel said, moving closer to hook a leg over his. 

“What about you two?”

Lambert pushed on Raf’s lip harder until his thumb was pulled into the wet heat of Raf’s mouth. “We know how we play. But you don’t know me like you know Eskel, and I don’t play with people unless there are rules in place.” He groaned as Raf hollowed his cheeks, creating perfect suction around that thumb. “Wanted to make the first time easy.”

Raf let his thumb go with a pop. “First time?”

Eskel grinned. “We’ve got designs on you.”

Raf let out a small noise not unlike a whimper. They were going to _destroy_ him and he’d be begging for more.

He cast his gaze over at Eskel, who was still lying there content as could be, but he was slowly stroking his cock with his right fist. “Negotiating safewords gets you going?” Raf asked, voice teasing. “My, my.”

“You two get me going,” Eskel supplied. “I like watching.”

“He does.” Lambert was on him again, still hovering, still not touching. Raf looked him over, taking in the barrel chest and sparse body hair.

“How did I not know about these?” Raf said, slightly stunned as he reached up to the little bars through Lambert’s nipples. “Oh, gorgeous.”

Lambert preened. “You wanna touch them?” Raf nodded, making Lambert grin. “I wanna hear it, pretty little bird. Tell me.”

Another flush of arousal spiked in his system. It was startling, and yet somehow freeing. One wouldn’t think you could discover new things about your sexuality after a certain amount of time, and yet those deep brown eyes flecked with gold and crooked grin of Lambert’s were deeply enticing. 

“I want to touch you,” Raf breathed out, hands outstretched.

Lambert’s hands snapped down on his, fingers curling around his wrists and holding him at bay. “What’s the magic word?”

Raf swallowed hard, the effort making his throat click. “Please.”

“Good boy.”

Raf whined high in the back of his throat and as soon as Lambert let go of his wrists, he surged forward. Eskel seemed to moan with him as he toyed with the bars in Lambert’s nipples, learning how the other man liked to be touched.

He flicked and twisted and rubbed, cataloging every single sigh and twitch. “Am I doing this right?” He asked, eyes bright with curiosity. Whatever game they were playing was _enticing_.

“Keep going.” Lambert’s nostrils flared but he stayed on his knees, shockingly steady.

“Do as he says.” Eskel was now running a hand up Raf’s thigh, fingertips dipping into the cut of muscle at his groin. “Be good.”

 _Be good_. The words rattled like runes cast from a cup, scattering across Raf’s consciousness. “I’m always good,” he said, the words sounding far steadier than he felt.

“Doubt that.” With a grin, Lambert pulled his hands away, bringing them up to his shoulders. “Should we keep going?”

Raf nodded, fingers already twitching against the hard muscle of those glorious shoulders. “Yes. Please.”

He was soon laying on his back prone and staring up at Eskel and Lambert as they moved around him. “Ah, so he does listen,” Eskel teased, brown eyes staring fondly at him. “Come here.”

Raf was pulled into a searing kiss, the kind that set his brain alight with pleasure. Eskel was a delicious kisser, all finesse and teasing nips that could soothe the soul and leave you aching for more. Lambert was touching him too, tracing patternless whorls on his chest, dipping lower as he went.

Raf was a mess. A writhing, pleading, godsforsaken, wrung-out _mess_. Putting any thoughts together was next to impossible when he was being touched and kissed and fondled like delicate china. “As good as this is,” he gasped, turning his head to the side as Eskel sucked a path down his neck, “what if I need more?”

“Requests?” Lambert was looking at him like he was the world and any will he had - and any reservations - crumbled under that stare.

Raf licked dry lips, reaching for the words even as Eskel’s mouth drove him to distraction. “I want you to fuck me while I suck Eskel’s cock.”

Lambert looked like he’d been slapped. Any playful pretense dropped from his face and he was then looming over Raf, cupping his jaw in those big hands. “You sure about that?”

“Yes.” Raf’s throat felt too tight. But _gods_ did he _want_. 

Eskel peered up at him, gaze assessing. “Raf. Be sure.”

Raf’s answer was to pin him to the bed, hooking a foot around Lambert’s thigh. Both men gave startled grunts, but Eskel was the first to react, threading his fingers into Raf’s hair and pulling gentle. Raf whimpered, shooting Eskel a look that was meant to brand him with his need. Eskel hauled him up to ravage his lips while Lambert shifted behind them, the bed dipping as he moved.

Raf lost all track of time and space and thought while he and Eskel kissed. As attentive a lover as he was, Eskel was sweet and kind and Raf needed more. His fingers sought out sensitive spots on Eskel’s ribs, skating over puckered nipples, drawing gasps and little purrs of pleasure.

Two slick fingers touched the top of his cleft and he moaned, wrenching away from Eskel’s mouth to find a smirking Lambert behind him once more. “Last chance, little bird,” he crooned while wrapping his left arm around Raf’s waist.

“Fuck me.” Raf wiggled back against Lambert, back bowed. “ _Fuck me_.”

“Jesus.” Lambert broke character to swear - rather endearingly - at Raf, pulling him closer. “Hold on to Eskel.”

Raf did more than hold on. He bit a path down Eskel’s chest, making the other man groan approvingly. The lower he went, the more he pushed his ass in the air until Lambert couldn’t avoid dipping his fingers between Raf’s cheeks. Raf was nosing along Eskel’s hip, delighting in the way Eskel fisted his hair, just as Lambert touched him.

“ _Fuck_!” He pushed his forehead into Eskel’s thigh, moaning. He was already shaky, shivering with unfettered need. Every little wall, every brick laid down over the years had been to protect other people. Meant to shelter them from his desires, his wants. Because even on good days, Raf wanted so much, all the time.

 _Filthy little hedonist_ , a lover had once said while they were fooling around. It had been meant as a joke, but it hit too close to home. Raf had never seen that man again, holding no ire against him but not willing to give his body to someone who didn’t understand. Who had never truly tried to. Raf didn’t want to be blind like that anymore.

He was sensitive. To everything. To everyone. He gave and gave and usually received in return but over the years, the wear had started to show. But these two men - glorious, gorgeous, giving - didn’t see him that way.

He was needy. He desired. And they met that need, that desire, in kind. They liked his need, found it attractive.

A full body shudder wracked him as he leaned forward to wrap his lips around the head of Eskel’s cock. The man below him groaned hotly, the sound vibrating through Raf like a gong being struck. “Fuck Raf,” Eskel panted, hips lifting off the bed to chase the sensation.

Lambert swore creatively, his stare unseen by Raf but it made his skin prickle anyways. Those fingers dipped lower and lower still. They circled his hole and made him buck into that delicate touch.

“You like that,” Lambert said softly. “Look at you. A cock in your mouth and my fingers -“ He pressed in slowly and Raf moaned, eyes fluttering shut at the pressure. “Filling your hole.”

He was trapped. Filled. Eskel’s cock was a silky heat in his mouth, those broad fingers in his hair gently tugging and sending little waves of tingles over his scalp. And Lambert held him by the hip, his grip firm and commanding as he pressed inside Raf’s body.

Every single part of him howled in pleasure and yet he wanted _more_.

Lambert must have felt him shiver because he was quickly mouthing down Raf’s spine, his movement helping him keep a rhythm on Eskel’s prick. “Oh yeah, baby, you are full. Look at that, Eskel. Is he doing good, sucking your cock like that?”

Eskel groaned, rolling his eyes up to give Lambert a filthy smirk. “Best cocksucker I’ve ever had.” His hips twitched as Raf hollowed his cheeks. “God, what you’re doing to me….”

Lambert scissored his fingers inside Raf, searching for his prostate. “How bad do you want my cock, little bird? Want me to fuck you while Eskel comes down your throat?”

Raf pulled away, panting, dizzy with lust. He felt drunk. Overcome. Lambert was instantly sliding his fingers out, his touch now soothing instead of demanding. “Hey, look at me,” Eskel said, concern flickering over his face. “Was that too much?”

Raf shook his head, cleared his throat to say, “No, no. I just….it’s like having my body pulled in two directions. Not bad.”

“What’s your word?” Lambert was in his ear now, nuzzling at his sweat-damp hair. 

“Tent.”

“Good.”

Raf leaned into his touch. “Can we keep going?”

“Yeah. But you use that word if you need to. Remember that.”

Raf’s chest tightened. The _care_ he was being shown was overloading his brain. He was the one who cared, who touched delicately, who ran tongue and lips and hands over a lover’s body, following the push and pull of their needs.

This was different. 

“You good?” Eskel was there too, soft brown eyes flecked with gold watching him closely. 

“Yes. Please.” Raf ran a hand over Eskel’s chest, then down to circle his cock. “I want to feel you both.”

Lambert blew out a breath against his ear, drawing out another shiver. “Goddamn, where did you come from?” His voice was reverent. “We’re going to make you feel so good, baby. I promise.”

With great care, they eased Raf back between them. His erection had flagged in the moment but Eskel stroked him to hardness, drawing little whines and moans from his throat with every slick motion.

“Hold on, little bird,” Lambert said, gripping him, holding him once more. All Raf could do was nod and let them touch him like he was some precious thing they wanted to please.

He was opened and stroked and rocked back and forth between them, hands and lips taking him apart expertly. When he shuddered at Lambert’s fingers on his prostate, Lambert growled. “You ready?”

Raf nodded, whimpering.

“Go slow, Lambert,” Eskel said before he lost his words at Raf’s mouth on his cock.

Lambert spread his cheeks. Raf keened.

And then he was being filled. Eskel’s cock bumped the back of his throat and Lambert pressed inside and he was _gone_. Just a raw nerve, lost in the shockwaves of pleasure.

“ _Fuck_ you feel good.” Lambert’s voice dropped into a rumbling growl that made Raf’s hair stand on end. “I’m gonna bottom out inside you so you feel every inch of me, baby.” He thrust in shallowly. Raf clawed at Eskel’s hips, sucked him harder.

The connection between the three of them was intense, edging on the verge of too much and yet he wanted more. He wanted to be pushed and pulled and fucked and _loved_.

“Goddamn,” Eskel said between breathy pants. “Raf…”

Raf slipped his mouth off Eskel’s cock, shoved forward by Lambert’s enthusiastic thrust. He wrapped his fist around the cock in front of him and scratched at Eskel harder, leaving thin red trails on his skin. “Want you to come in me. Both of you.”

Lambert let out a growl like a wounded animal and thrust harder, making Raf keen. “Fuck, baby. Gonna be fucking ruined for anyone else.”

“You or me?” Raf had barely anything in him to tease the man pounding his ass like it was his job, but he wasn’t letting that slip by. Lambert only chuckled and thrust in deeper, eliciting a full body shudder from Raf. It was next to impossible to split his attentions between them but he was going to goddamn try.

Eskel laughed, more a huff of air than anything else. But the warmth in his eyes was unmistakable. “Finish me off then.”

Raf could tell Eskel was close as he purred and moaned and caressed Raf’s face with callused hands. They’d done this before and Eskel was as open about his pleasure as he was his affections. He was possibly the most touch-starved person Raf had ever met and he _loved_ that about the big man. And he’d learned very quickly that Eskel slowed down, rather than sped up, the closer he drew to orgasm.

Lambert slowed his thrusts to match the rhythm of the bob of Raf’s head. Those deep, powerful, agonizingly slow thrusts made him weak in the knees. “If one of you….doesn’t finish soon….” he panted, screwing his eyes shut as he let his hand take over for his mouth.

Lambert pulled almost all the way out, shifted, and thrust back in at an angle that took Raf down to the bed, collapsing on top of Eskel. “Yeah, you just lay there, baby,” he crooned, picking his pace back up. Eskel held onto him, thrusting his slick cock against Raf’s abdomen.

They rutted on him with merciless precision, Eskel murmuring little compliments while Lambert purred and growled behind him, telling him what a _fucking good little bird_ he was. Gripping his hips to the point of bruising. Thrusting against his prostate and making him see stars.

“Eskel,” Raf whined, pawing at him.

“I got you.” With a nod from Eskel, Raf felt Lambert’s hands guide him back up until powerful arms wrapped around his chest, holding him aloft. There were fingers on his collarbone, _so goddamn close_ to his throat but Raf couldn’t find the words to ask.

Eskel slipped out from underneath him to kneel before Raf and take them both up in his fist. Raf gasped and grabbed at him, only to be pinned between the two men as Lambert fucked him ruthlessly and sucked marks into the side of his neck. 

Eskel kissed him and fisted them both. Lambert fucked him, his hips smacking with every thrust.

Raf was helpless in their wake, unable to parse the sounds from his own throat with his own choked out cries of pleasure. 

It was perfect.

And then he was spilling between them, painting Eskel’s abdomen with thick bursts of spend, barely registering Eskel’s cry. Heat flooded his body and then Lambert was fucking him through the aftershocks, hands suddenly gentle when seconds ago they’d been possessive.

He floated, aloft in some space that made no sense but he wanted to stay there. When he blinked and came to, he was wedged between Eskel and Lambert, the latter cleaning his chest with a cloth dipped in warm water.

“There he is,” Eskel said, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You all right?”

“I uh…” He licked his lips and then there was a hand on his back and a water bottle pressed into his hand. “Thank you.”

Lambert nuzzled his ear, fingers combing through his sweat slick hair. “God. What a fucking….god.”

Eskel chuckled, the sound rumbling through Raf’s body and sending little shivers through him. “You sure you’re okay?”

Raf nodded. His body felt like lead but there was a warm, tingling sensation that covered every bit of his body from to the roots of his hair all the way down to his toenails. “Yes. You both are….spectacular.”

He leaned into Lambert’s touch and tugged Eskel closer, kissing them both slowly. Lambert threw an arm over his chest with a satisfied grunt, Eskel’s leg hooked over his, and Raf stayed in the middle of two men who clearly delighted in him and each other.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier and Geralt go to a dinner party and meet Geralt's friends; the gala approaches; Valdo reappears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: The abusive ex appears
> 
> Fuck it, let's post these chapters, schedule be damned. The story is almost done!
> 
> The orb of glass referenced is not something I can give you a picture of, but you can look up Chihuly glass orbs like [ this](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/67202219409198557/) and get the idea of what it might look like in a much smaller version.

**_Two weeks later  
  
_ **

“Y’all came!” Marskeen said as Geralt and Jaskier walked through the open gate in the fence. Marskeen was decked out in a thick sweater and long skirt to ward off the sudden chill that had overtaken White Orchard. She ushered them inside with a grin, giving Jaskier a once over that would have made a sailor blush before taking the proffered wine from his hand.

“She’s all bark,” Geralt whispered in his ear.

“Geralt, I thrive in social situations. It’s just been a while since I attended a proper dinner party,” he teased back, squeezing Geralt’s hand. “Don’t you worry your gorgeous head over me.”

Jaskier stepped inside, Geralt right behind him, and the dozen or so people gathered in the open living space next to the kitchen cheered. They were greeted warmly and introductions were made, all the names and connections to Geralt making Jaskier slightly dizzy. All these people _loved_ Geralt and it showed.

Not a moment later, Aiden, Markseen’s wife, was pressing glasses into their hands. “What’s your poison?” she asked Jaskier, pointing to the little bar area where a tall, lithe man with a thick ponytail of black hair was mixing a Manhattan. “Coen can make about anything, which is why he gets stuck behind the bar for the first hour of any party.”

“Yeah, but it’s all I can drink every time so…” The man shrugged, his green eyes flashing with mirth as he threw back a shot.

“Anything?” Jaskier asked Coen.

“Anything,” he replied, giving a confident wiggle of his eyebrows.

Jaskie leaned against the bar, pressing a palm into the polished oak. “Whisky smash.”

Aiden laughed at the tiny flicker of consternation on Coen’s face. “Oooo, Geralt’s man might have you there, Coen.”

Coen grinned, clearly game to play along. “Now wait a fucking minute, let me think.”

Aiden pointed at him. “No cheating and no phones!”

“I sense a story,” Jaskier said, chuckling. “Is there a bet on this or something?”

While Jaskier made friends at the bar, Geralt was hemmed in by the others, all casting curious looks at Jaskier. “So that’s the one that snagged the White Wolf,” Adela, a longtime friend of Marskeen’s, said before draining her beer. “You have good taste, Geralt.”

“Oh he has great fucking taste,” Marskeen agreed, swapping Geralt’s untouched glass for a beer bottle. He nodded gratefully and took a swig, letting malt and amber and the lightest tinge of hops dance over his tongue. “That’s his _neighbor_ , Adela.”

Geralt let them rib him for a few more minutes, then begged off, going to stand between Jaskier and Aiden while Coen talked their ears off about his horses. “So this kid, Charlie, never been on a horse. Hells, probably never seen one outside of a book. But he marches right up to old Bella and puts his hand out and five minutes later, they’re best friends.” Coen shook his head in disbelief. “I mean, Bella likes everyone but Charlie got her good. Every time he visits, they’re inseparable.”

Geralt gave Jaskier a soft smile before saying, “Shit, I didn’t know you still had that old mare, Coen. Glad she’s still around.”

“Yeah, well, we all gotta get old sometime.” He pointed to Jaskier’s glass. “You want another one?”

Geralt swore Jaskier’s eyes crossed a little and he stifled a chuckle. “I see no one warned you how strong he makes the drinks.”

Jaskier spluttered around a mouthful, blue eyes going wide as he swallowed against the burn. “Neither did you,” he said, half gasping.

The grin grew. “Nope. Figured I’d let you experience that joy firsthand.”

With a shake of his head, Jaskier hooked his fingers into Geralt’s collar and pulled him down for a kiss. The whisky was already going to his head, but the warmth curling in his gut had nothing to do with alcohol. Geralt looked so happy here among his friends, swapping stories and trading jests. And yet he’d made room for Jaskier in the middle of all of it.

Valdo had never once done anything like that, unless he needed something pretty on his arm for a night. 

A couple people whistled and Jaskier felt a smile against his lips. “Now you’ve done it,” Geralt murmured. “I’ll be set upon on Monday.”

“It’s good for morale to gossip about the boss.” Jaskier drew back, taking in with pride the blush creeping up Geralt’s face. “Isn’t that right, Marskeen?”

The red haired woman was staring open-mouthed at them while Aiden stood at her side grinning widely. “Oooo, White Wolf!” she yelled, hefting her glass in a toast. “Yeah baby!”

Geralt rolled his eyes but he didn’t let go of Jaskier’s waist, pulling him in closer. “Now look what you did.”

“Me? Not a thing.” He cocked his head. “And I absolutely need to know where the name _White Wolf_ came from.”

Geralt groaned.  
  


* * *

  
Jaskier stepped outside for some air as the party raged on. Someone had brought some weed and soon his head was fit to buzzing from the combination of stimulants. The house’s little back porch overlooked a small ravine and was backed by thick pine trees. A cold wind blew across his face but he was overheated so it felt more soothing than chilling.

The sound of the sliding glass door opening, then a warm hand on his back made him hum. “Just getting a bit of air.”

“I should have warned you their dinner parties are more _party_ than anything else.” Geralt looked down at him, those gold eyes glistening. “And that includes the really awful weed.”

Jaskier laughed. “It’s not the worst I’ve ever had.”

“But it’s close.”

“Ooof, yes.” Geralt brushed the hair off the side of his face and Jaskier leaned into that soft touch. “Thank you for bringing me tonight. They’re a fun group. And I should probably get out more. This is a good start.”

“Yeah, I’m glad.” Geralt shifted, suddenly seeming uncomfortable. “Wanted to say something but we’ve not had a minute since we arrived.” At the flicker of panic on Jaskier’s face, he shook his head. “Not bad just uh….shit.” He drew Jaskier close, hands spanning his waist. Jaskier swore he could feel Geralt’s heat through all his clothes, sinking into his skin. “I adore you, you know that?”

Something swelled in Jaskier’s chest. He’d hoped. He’d dreamt. But everything had been so new, even with their obvious, instant connection. “Not wanting to run away yet?” He kept his tone light but there was pain under his words.

Geralt frowned. “I’m not going anywhere. That’s what I wanted to say.” He sucked in a deep breath, holding Jaskier’s gaze. “I don’t do casual. I want us to be together.”

The dam holding every little hope back started to crack. “I didn’t want to presume -”

Geralt kissed him. Jaskier stifled a sob of joy against his lips, hands immediately going to the sides of Geralt’s face to pull him closer. He felt like he could have powered the entire block with the lightness bursting inside his chest. He wanted to climb to the roof and shout his joy, he wanted to down an entire bottle of something fizzy and delicious, and he wanted to take Geralt home and fuck him senseless.

He wanted to take _his boyfriend_ home.

He barely registered the door sliding open, then a, “Whoops!” followed by a few chuckles before the door slid shut.

Geralt only kissed him harder.

Jaskier sought out his hand, interlocking their fingers, pressing their palms together until he could feel Geralt’s heartbeat connecting with his.  
  


* * *

_  
**Weeks later and four days before the benefit gala**  
  
_

_Panic mode activate_ , Jaskier thought as he held the door for the dolly steered by two of the gallery’s volunteers. “East wall, please!” he called out, turning in time to see Raf dodge the dolly and come over to him, tablet in hand.

“West and north galleries are finished minus decorations and lighting.” Raf flicked through a few menus, checked off a couple of boxes, then turned the tablet. “Your signature, boss.”

Jaskier hesitated, finger hovering over the screen. “All good?”

“I’m one thousand percent certain. At this point it would take something remarkable to disturb our progress.”

“You really shouldn’t tempt Fate,” Jaskier grumbled, scratching a brief signature on the digital line. 

Raf shrugged. “Neither you nor I are superstitious, so as long as we keep that talk amongst ourselves, I think we’re okay.” He led Jaskier back inside the observatory’s main room and over to a small folding table where various catalogs and papers were scattered. Over the next two hours, they worked steadily through gala plans until Jaskier’s eyes were crossed and the space between his shoulder blades ached from too much hunching over.

As the volunteers slowly left for the day, they continued working until the rumble of a truck outside drew their attention. Raf couldn’t stop the grin on his face. “Hmmm, just on time.”

“For the work they were hired to do?”

Raf grinned at Jaskier’s leading question. “That, and for me to kiss them silly.”

Jaskier had never seen his friend quite so happy and watched, dumbstruck, as Raf greeted Eskel, then Lambert, with brief kisses. Eskel looked around and whistled softly. “This is looking good, Jaskier,” he said with a grin. Then he pointed up at the very obvious blank space on the rig extended from the ceiling. “That where your main piece is going?”

Jaskier nodded. “I mostly want to make sure it’s sturdy enough. The observatory staff said it would be, but it weighs quite a bit and I do not need it crashing to the floor.”

“Can do,” Lambert said, motioning for Eskel to follow him back out. “We’ll get our shit and start working.”

Jaskier pressed his hands together in gratitude. “My eternal thanks to you both.”

Lambert grinned smugly. “That and you get to see the boyfriend work up a sweat.”

Jaskier flushed and waved them off but he couldn’t stop smiling. For the first time in a long while, he was content. They did date nights and dinners with Ciri and long walks, and snuck kisses when the kid wasn’t looking. She definitely knew what was going on, but she also seemed to mysteriously disappear up to her room when Jaskier and Geralt were snuggled on the couch. And after the gala, they were going up the coast for a weekend, to let everyone relax and give Jaskier and Ciri a chance to bond more. 

That had been Geralt’s idea, and while Jaskier had worried, Geralt assured him this was good. That it was a natural progression. “The kid likes you, and so do I,” he’d growled in Jaskier’s ear as they lay in bed while Jaskier combed his fingers through Geralt’s chest hair. “I know it’s fast -“

Jaskier had pressed a finger to his lips. “Shush. So what if it is? If we’re all on the same page, who cares what other people think? We know what’s right for us. And you know I adore Ciri.”

And then Geralt had rolled over onto him and sucked love bites onto his chest. Some of them were still fading.

As he stood and fretted over another set of gala table layouts, Raf came to his side and put a bottle of water in his hand. “Drink. All of it. You forgot earlier.”

And Jaskier realized he was rather thirsty; his mouth felt like a sand dune and there was a dull pounding around his temples. With a nod of thanks, he tipped his head back to drain the bottle in one go.

“Lovely spot you’ve managed to procure.”

The water immediately went down the wrong way at the sound of that silky voice. Jaskier hacked, eyes watering, as the slightly fuzzy form of Valdo came into view.  
  


* * *

  
Lambert set his toolbox on the ground and stood to give Eskel a hand when he saw something move in his periphery. Curious, he turned to see a tall, well-dressed man with long black hair enter the open door into the observatory. The man acted like he was supposed to be there, but something about him instantly rankled. It was hard to make out too many details across the parking lot but he felt something cold slither down his spine.

Hackles up, he tapped Eskel on the arm. “That who I think it is?”

Eskel finished tying a bandana around his forehead before peering at the figure. “Yeah, isn’t that the violinist? What’s his face….Marx?”

Lambert’s expression went dark. “Marx? Valdo Marx?” He dropped his gear. “Esk, that’s Jaskier’s ex.”

Eskel’s face dropped. “Oh fuck.”

They both took off across the asphalt. Lambert had his phone pressed to his ear as it rang through to Geralt.  
  


* * *

Raf immediately stepped in front of a coughing Jaskier, blocking him from view. A little water down the wrong tube was no concern when Valdo motherfucking Marx was standing mere feet away.

“Breathe, dear,” he murmured over his shoulder at Jaskier’s red face and panicked eyes. “I’ve got this.” Raf set his jaw and pointed to the door. “Out. You’ve got five seconds before I call the police.”

Valdo seemed completely unperturbed by Raf’s words. “Hmm, should have them wax the floors again in a few days. All those work boots tromping in and out will definitely scuff the polish.” He smiled at Raf. “Good to see you again, Rafael.”

“Out.”

Jaskier saw Raf’s clenched fists, the sharp, rigid line of his spine. “Get out,” he managed to say through a hoarse throat. “Now.”

Raf turned, surprise on his features, before he wrapped an arm around Jaskier’s shoulders. His other hand pulled out his phone and began dialing the non-emergency police line.

“Whatever for?” Valdo said as he stepped forward. “The observatory is open to the public.”

Two sets of pounding feet drew Jaskier’s attention away from Valdo and soon the room was home to Eskel and Lambert, as well. Lambert had just pulled his phone from his ear and Jaskier’s heart started pounding.

 _He called Geralt_.

“Ah, security?” Valdo gave Eskel and Lambert the once over as he circled them. The fact that he looked utterly unbothered by anything happening around him only rankled Jaskier. Valdo was Valdo - gorgeous, talented, completely selfish and arrogant. But all the things that had made him cling to the man were fading, or had been wiped away. Some of it was his own strength. Some of it was because of Raf.

And some of it was because of the man walking in behind Valdo.

* * *

The worried edge in Lambert’s voice had Geralt speeding into the parking lot, parking crooked, and loping across the way to the open door of the observatory. 

Jaskier had told him enough - Valdo was charming, handsome, and at first, very loving and giving. And then it slowly changed. Every sign of an abusive, controlling relationship showed up, from cutting Jaskier off from his friends to dictating what he wore and ate. Very little of it was direct; Valdo would make _suggestions_ or _encouragements_ , only outright snubbing Jaskier if he didn’t obey. And the few times he did, Valdo made Jaskier earn his affections with tenfold effort. 

Geralt had been slightly sick to his stomach after Jaskier told him some of the things that happened. And then he kissed him gently, holding Jaskier’s face in his hands.

_“I would never,” he said softly, bumping his forehead against Jaskier’s. “You deserve so much more than that asshole.”_

_Jaskier smiled, eyes bright. “And now I have it.”_

Geralt crossed his arms, looming over Valdo’s shorter, slighter frame. 

He said nothing. 

He waited for Valdo to feel that prickle on the back of his neck.

Geralt gave Jaskier a nod and the tiniest smile right before Valdo turned and looked up. “My, my,” he purred, leaning close to Geralt. “I didn’t know the construction crew had such...specimens on its roster.”

“Leave.” One word, barely more than a rumble of sound from Geralt’s chest. He didn’t make a single move, even as Valdo edged near. He knew people like this guy - powerful, good looking, and slimy. They thought beauty and charm could win them anything they wanted, but they usually didn’t have a lick of self-preservation or goddamned common sense. 

And Geralt knew what Valdo would do, because these guys all acted the same way. They loved to prod and poke the bear. And when the bear, tired of being a play toy, bit back, they cried foul and claimed the title of victim.

Not today. 

Not when Jaskier was red faced and wild eyed and looking like he wanted to run away and never come back. But Geralt spotted the tension in his neck, the way he gripped Raf’s hand. There was anger, too, and Geralt felt a swell of pride seeing Jaskier fight back his own anxiety.

Valdo leaned in and put a hand on Geralt’s forearm. “Care to leave work early and have a very good night?”

“No.”

Valdo pouted and Geralt swore he heard either Raf or Jaskier growl. “And why not?”

Geralt sidestepped him, shaking off Valdo’s touch, and went to Jaskier, who immediately plastered himself to Geralt’s body. He tipped Jaskier’s chin up with two fingers and planted a soft kiss on his mouth. 

After several long seconds where Valdo looked torn between anger and disbelief, he huffed. “Well, that explains some things.”

“Time to go,” Lambert said, stepping into Valdo’s path and line of sight. “Eskel?”

Eskel stepped forward and Valdo was surrounded by men far larger than himself. Geralt watched several emotions flicker over the man’s face. “And here I thought we might talk, Jaskier. But I see you traded me in for a bunch of….” Valdo’s expression curled, his mouth set in a sneer. “Uneducated, uncultured swine. Reminds me of all those times I tried to train your worst habits out. Clearly it didn’t stick.”

“You have him?” Raf said to Geralt out of the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah.” Geralt looked down at Jaskier, pushing aside his anger to pull him closer.

“Excuse me, then.” Raf stepped away with a nod to Jaskier just as Valdo was being escorted out by Eskel and Lambert. “Hold on, boys.”

Everyone stopped and Valdo, still wearing an expression like curdled milk, cocked his head at Raf’s approach. “Oh good, now I get to be scolded by the best friend. Joy.”

“Valdo, darling, not on your life would I waste more breath telling you what an asshole you are.”

They stared at each other, Raf smiled, and with shocking speed punched Valdo right in the jaw. Valdo crumpled to the ground with a cry of pain and Raf turned on his heel to come back to Jaskier and Geralt. “Oh and the story you tell is that you ran into a wall. Or valiantly fought off a mugger. I don’t care. But absolutely do not think to come for Jaskier or anyone else in this room.” Raf gave Valdo a deadly look over his shoulder. “Or I will end you.”

* * *

The moment Eskel and Lambert dragged a rabid-looking Valdo from the observatory, Raf rushed over to Jaskier, all anger and fury dropping from his face. “Jaskier, oh my god.”

Jaskier pulled him into a hug while Geralt kept a hand on Jaskier’s back. “I’m okay,” he muttered into Raf’s shoulder, casting his gaze up to Geralt. “I’m okay.”

“Fucking bastard,” Raf said, tone vehement while he let Jaskier tug him even closer. “I’m doubling security for the gala. No arguments.”

“Won’t get them from me,” Geralt said softly. “You did what I wanted to.”

Raf rubbed his bruised knuckles. “Happily. I hate that man.” He gently nudged Jaskier into Geralt’s arms. “Go home.”

“We have to finish this -“

Raf held up a finger. “Go. Home. I’ll handle this.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Geralt said, clapping a friendly hand down on Raf’s shoulder. “I’ve got him.”

The look Raf gave him was very serious. It shuddered against Geralt’s heart. “I know you do. You’re the only other one I trust in that regard.”

Jaskier squeezed his hand as they went past and Raf watched them go. He waited until he heard Geralt’s car start before sitting down in a chair and pulling in a shaky breath. The adrenaline rush was fading and he felt cold and tired.

He didn’t even look up when he heard Lambert and Eskel re-enter the space. “Please tell me he fell into the river.”

Lambert chuckled. “Bloodthirsty, our Raf?” He kneeled in front of Lutz and pulled those elegant fingers away from his face. “You okay?”

“Fine.” Raf sighed, looked up at Eskel’s concerned expression. “Don’t marr your gorgeous face with concern, my dear. Bump in the road. And if he shows back up here, then I guess _I’ll_ chuck him in the river.”

Raf found himself pulled to his feet by Lambert, and then squashed between two warm bodies. “Strong words, little bird,” Lambert purred in his ear, fingers brushing his side. “That was brave.”

Raf scoffed. “You mean stupid. If he sues me, or calls the police -“

“It’s our word against his. I already put a call in to a buddy on the force, just a head’s up.” Eskel cupped Raf’s jaw, bringing their gazes together. “You’re a good friend. A better man. We’re lucky.”

Raf leaned into his touch, desperate to burrow into their warmth. But there was work to be done. “You two are going to ruin me,” he said with a weak chuckle, not fighting when Lambert slid a knee between his legs. 

“And you worry too much,” Eskel replied, planting a kiss behind his ear.  
  


* * *

  
Once Jaskier was home he felt like he could breathe again. During the short drive back, Geralt kept giving him worried looks and kept his hand on Jaskier’s knee. He clung to that touch, mind swirling with heavy emotions that warred with one another. 

He didn’t know if he should feel relieved that Jaskier wasn’t having an anxiety attack, or more worried that he was so still. But there were no tears, no heaving breaths. Jaskier kept his eyes fixed through the windshield as Geralt drove.

Once they pulled into Geralt’s driveway, Jaskier slumped against the seat. “God.”

“Babe?” Geralt gripped his knee tighter, fighting against the urge to pull him closer.

Jaskier made a noise in the back of his throat. “Can we go inside? Can I….”

Geralt heard the tightness in his voice, saw him swallow hard. “Anything you want.”

Jaskier gave a dry laugh. “Honestly, a pizza, a lot of liquor, and a bath sound about right.”

Geralt frowned. “The first two are easy. But you don’t have a tub.”

There was a glimmer of something in Jaskier’s eyes as he said, “But you do.”

Despite the tension in his shoulders, Geralt laughed. “Done. Let me take care of the sitter and get Ciri into bed. And I can make pizza, if that’s okay. Got plenty of liquor, too.”

Jaskier nodded. “Should I bring Dandi over?”

The image of Ciri tucked into bed with both dogs made his heart swell. Geralt nodded. “Yeah, do that. Ciri will love it.”

The smile Jaskier gave him, albeit small, was full of warmth. “So will Dandi.”

They separated at the car but not before Jaskier yanked his head down into a heart-stopping, soul-aching kiss. It wasn’t desperate or needy.

But it was real.  
  


* * *

  
Jaskier smacked his lips and pulled a face. “Good god that’s dirty.”

Geralt downed the rest of his martini. “Probably a bit too much.”

“No such thing.” Jaskier was already reaching for the vodka before Geralt stopped him. “Geralt.”

“Easy.” He smiled fondly. “I’ll mix up more and we’ll take it upstairs.” 

Jaskier danced his hands over the buttons on his shirt, a gleam in his eyes. “Meet you up there?”

Geralt’s answer was a light swat to his ass that sent Jaskier flying up the stairs, the promise of _more_ making him hurry.

Once in the hallway he paused outside Ciri’s door. It was decorated with drawings and stickers and a little nameplate that said, “Ciri’s Room”. The door was shut and he started reaching for the handle before he froze. 

What was he doing? 

Something flickered in his consciousness. An awareness, perhaps, or a feeling lodged far down in his gut. He wanted to see Ciri snuggled with the dogs, all three asleep and content. But she wasn’t his kid, and as close as they’d become over the months since he and Geralt had first gotten together, it still didn’t feel right.

“You can go in.”

Jaskier’s eyes shot wide and he whirled, hand on his chest. “Fuck, Geralt.”

Geralt was clearly struggling against the grin that threatened to break over his face. Instead, he handed Jaskier the full martini glass. “It’s okay, Jask. I uh….” He looked away and of all things he expected, Jaskier never expected to watch his boyfriend blink away tears. “She asks for you sometimes. I really did try to set up boundaries but she’s too smart for me. Too intuitive.” 

Jaskier drew closer to him, mindful of their glasses but aching to touch. He cupped the side of Geralt’s jaw with a palm. “I don’t understand.”

The chuckle he got in return was more of a snort. “Honestly, I don’t either. I swear she sees and feels things us adults aren’t privy to. It’s intimidating sometimes.” Geralt leaned into his touch, practically purring. “Let’s get in the bath. We don’t have to do anything other than relax right now. We can unpack the heavy stuff later.”

Jaskier let himself be led down the hall to the master bath. Geralt had put a lot of work into the house over the last several months, and one of the biggest jobs had been a complete redo of the bathroom. Jaskier had found it utterly charming that such a big man had wanted a massive tub in the middle of the space, but Geralt insisted it was a _requirement_ for any redesign.

And it was a gorgeous tub. Deep enough to let Geralt sink in completely and big enough for two people, it pulled the entire room together. It was an extra-wide, hammered copper tub that Jaskier hadn’t yet had the pleasure of diving into but he thrilled at the mere thought of the two of them relaxed, warm, and sated, pressed chest to back.

Geralt set about filling the tub while Jaskier wandered, poking his head into the walk-in closet. He’d been in there before after he and Geralt had tumbled into bed; usually to steal one of Geralt’s shirts and parade, bare-assed, in front of his boyfriend until he was pinned to the bed for a second round. 

He sipped his drink as he poked through the closet, bringing the occasional shirt to his nose to drag the scent of _Geralt_ into his lungs. His phone buzzed as he drained the martini, feeling a little lightheaded from the rush of alcohol in his system.

_  
From: Raf _

_You okay?_

_From: Jaskier_

_Yeah. I’m at Geralt’s. Dandi’s with Ciri._

_From: Raf_

_You don’t do anything tonight. Don’t even think. We got the centerpiece hung up._

And then a picture popped up. Raf, Lambert, and Eskel standing below a massive orb of blown glass and glittering copper. It was a replica of the planet, done to scale, and pieced together from twenty different shades of blues and greens. Spotlights placed above the piece hit the glass just so, refracting a veritable ocean of color around the room. It was a gorgeous effect; part kaleidoscope, part cathedral stained glass.

Utterly original. Utterly memorable. 

It was the showpiece for the gala, and would be donated to the observatory at the end of the night. The orb was the work of ten different artists from around the Continent, and it had been the biggest project Jaskier had ever put together. The artists had donated their time, and he had secured backers for the materials. Smaller versions of the orb would be auctioned off during the raffle portion of the night, sold to the highest bidder as collector’s items.

_  
From: Raf _

_Thoughts?_

_From: Jaskier_

_I’m….stunned. It’s GORGEOUS._

_From: Raf_

_You did an amazing thing. Be proud. In a few days this will all be over, and we move forward._

_From: Jaskier_

_I’m going to cry. Stop it._

_From: Raf_

_So you’re saying DON’T lavish you with compliments. Got it._

Jaskier laughed, the sound coming out more broken than he intended.

“Jaskier?” Geralt was at his side instantly, wrapping an arm around him, plucking the empty glass from his hand. “What happened?”

Jaskier turned the phone to him without a word and they both stared down at the photo. “I….I mean, I saw it as it was being put together. But this is….god.” He turned his face up to look at Geralt. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Geralt set the glass aside and tipped Jaskier’s chin up with a finger. “You did this. You. Raf. The volunteers. The artists. You made this happen. Everyone will talk about this gala for years. Maybe forever.”

Jaskier laughed, the sound self-effacing. “You’re sweet.”

Geralt kissed him then, trying to pour every bit of earnestness and adoration he felt into the spark between them. “I’m serious,” he murmured against Jaskier’s lips. “You did this. Raf had it right. Be proud.”

While Jaskier sniffled and said goodnight to Raf, Geralt finished up preparing the bath. When Jaskier finally put his phone down and shucked his shirt and pants, he was pulled once again into Geralt’s orbit. Geralt was naked and half-hard, but his touches were gentle, almost lazy. “Get in with me.”

Jaskier nodded, leaning in to steal a kiss. “Yes. Please.”

“We don’t have to talk about it now.” Those amber eyes were fixed on him, staring right through to his soul. “When you’re ready, we can talk. Right now, I just want you.”

Tears pricked the corners of his eyes and Jaskier dashed them away with a hand, smiling despite the well of emotion choking him. Together they pushed his underwear down and Jaskier let Geralt lead him to the tub. The water steamed and he caught the scent of lavender and chamomile in the air. “You remembered,” he said as he stepped in, looking down at the bits of flowers and herbs that floated on the water’s surface.

“Of course I did.” Fingers woven together, they sat in the tub, adjusting until Geralt was leaning against the tub wall and Jaskier was seated between his legs. Back to chest, Jaskier’s temple pressed against Geralt’s jaw. “Why wouldn’t I remember that soap you love so much?”

 _Because he never did_. The words wouldn’t come, so Jaskier tightened his grip on Geralt’s hand and nudged that stubble-dotted chin with his forehead. Geralt took the hint, dipping down to brush his lips over Jaskier’s. 

Other words sprung, fully formed and almost real enough to touch, from Jaskier’s lips. “I love you. I know it’s so fast but I -“

Geralt crushed his mouth to Jaskier’s in a kiss that stole his breath away. “I love you, too,” Geralt whispered when they broke apart, panting and grinning like fools at each other.

Geralt’s fingers found his hip, then slid down and in and Jaskier whimpered. “Ah, god. _Geralt_.”

“Hmm. Let me show you crazy I am about you.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s the night of the gala, and Jaskier has a surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am an unrepentant Carl Sagan fan and Pale Blue Dot is one of my favorite books of all time. You’ll understand in a bit. ;)
> 
> Also, this thing has two more chapters, which I endeavor to write in the next several days and post together.
> 
> The orb is only loosely based off of Chihuly’s glass orbs (which I highly recommend you look up, they’re BEAUTIFUL!).

The days passed in a blur. The night of the gala was suddenly, stupidly quickly on hand and Jaskier didn’t even have time to be a bundle of nerves. And for once, everything seemed to be in order. There were minor snafus - one in particular dealing with an artist who suddenly didn’t want to auction off their work - but it  _ was _ minor.

Jaskier had let Raf handle that one; the artist was a particularly soft touch around Raf.

This would all work out.

As the afternoon bled into later hours, Jaskier stopped fussing with the tablecloths and chair placements, his watch letting him know he needed to move if he was going to get into his tuxedo.

“Oh, fuck,” he muttered, those nerves settling in now that he had a moment to think. He didn’t  _ want _ to think, but the guests would be arriving in just under three hours and Jaskier felt that telltale, slightly nauseating pulse in his stomach. His fingertips were cold but he shoved them into his hair anyways.

“Jaskier?”

He whirled and saw Geralt ambling down the hallway, black dress bag slung over his shoulder. Every single time he looked at this man his heart stopped.

_ Mine. All mine. All six plus feet of gorgeous, gentle heart _ .

He dodged a pile of boxes, steps hurried. “Hey! You’re here, you’re -“

Geralt smiled softly. “Okay, I know that tone.” He looked around the hallway, then pointed to a door. “Can we use that room?”

He nodded. “It’s a makeshift office for me and Raf, and Raf’s handling the volunteer assignments.”

“Perfect.” Geralt took Jaskier’s hand, his fingers so warm, and gently guided him into the little room. It was mostly storage, but a desk had been cleared off for them and Jaskier had loaded it down with seating plans and inventory lists. On a hook on the wall was his own dress bag.

Geralt shut the door with a click, put his bag on the hook, and pulled Jaskier close. “Panicking yet?”

“Yep.” He breathed hard through his nose. “This has to go well.”

“And it will.” Geralt wrapped an arm around Jaskier’s back, his palm flat between tensed shoulder blades. 

Jaskier was never more grateful for Geralt’s knowledge of his body than in that moment. The touch was soothing, steadying, in a way that made him sigh. It hummed through his skin. He looked up with a smile. “Thank you.”

Geralt kissed his forehead. “Of course.” He gestured to the desk. “What’s next?”

Jaskier walked him through the night’s events, doubly grateful that he had Geralt, Eskel, and Lambert on hand to provide assistance with almost anything.  _ Just in case, _ Lambert had said, face sober-serious.

They all knew what he meant.

Vesemir was bringing Ciri later, and she was so excited to dress up and be with her grandpa that she’d bounced around all day with the dogs until they wore each other out. Geralt had sent him a video of Ciri playing with Daisy and Dandelion, leading the girls on a merry chase through the park in the morning. It had made him smile at how sweet the whole thing was. 

Especially once Ciri waved to the camera and said, “Hi Jaskier! I know you’re busy and I’ll see you tonight but I can’t wait! Thank you for letting me come to the party.”

Jaskier had needed a few minutes alone after watching the video so he didn’t cry in front of his staff.

Plans set, Jaskier took a deep breath and sat down heavily on the corner of the desk. “Oh fuck.”

“Hey. You’ve got this.” Geralt squeezed his shoulders. “ _ We’ve _ got this. We’re all here because of you. Look at what you’ve put together.”

“You keep saying that and yet….argh, I feel like everything’s either going to snap into place or just fucking shatter apart.”

Geralt rubbed soothing circles into his arms. “You’ve sold more gala tickets than ever before.”

“I know.”

“You got front page coverage in the newspaper AND on the news channels.”

Jaskier groaned into his hands. “Don’t remind me.”

Geralt huffed amicably. “If that’s not helping...”  In a snap second his gaze went hot. Jaskier felt it like buckshot. “What would?”  He dropped to his knees. “Maybe this?”

“Oh god.” Jaskier let Geralt push his knees apart so he could run his hands up jean-clad thighs. “You’re serious.”

“Always.” The smirk he gave Jaskier made his will crumple like used tissue. “Except when I’m not. But I’m very serious right now.”

“Oh my god,” he said again, eyes wide. “I….” But he could already feel his cock twitch at the mere  _ suggestion _ . “If there’s a hell, we’re both going to it.”

Geralt laughed. “For a blow job?” He squeezed, his grip tight. Jaskier could feel each fingertip indenting his skin and he bit back a groan. “There are so many other things I’d rather go to hell for when it comes to what I want to do to you.”

Jaskier gave a broken whimper. “I’ve got less than -“

“All the time I need.”

Geralt practically manhandled him, undoing his pants and tugging them down, yanking his underwear to his ankles, and dragging Jaskier to him until he was licking a path up his left thigh while Jaskier stifled a high pitched noise in his fist. Geralt’s other hand was curled around his hip; tantalizingly, teasingly close to where Jaskier wanted him.

His ass was barely balanced on the edge of the desk but he knew Geralt wouldn’t let him fall. Geralt set his teeth in the tender flesh of the inside of his thigh and Jaskier  _ shuddered _ . “Oh fuck, fuck fuck fuck fuck,” he moaned softly, bucking forward.

“I’ve got you.” Geralt’s breath ghosted over his balls and Jaskier threw his head back. “Look at me, love.”

It took some effort but Jaskier forced his head back down. “You’re gonna kill me, you know that?”

“Lucky me, giving the boss a good luck blow job on the night of his big event.”

Jaskier’s eyes went wide. “Who….who are you right now? What the fuck -  _ oh sweet fucking hell _ .”

Geralt ran his tongue up the side of Jaskier’s cock, which was rather appreciative of the direct attention. Jaskier was pinned by a clever tongue and a set of strong hands and the heat in those amber eyes. He hung his head with a whimper just in time to watch Geralt suck him down.

Those hands caught his forward movement, just shy of tight on his hips, but Jaskier sure as  _ fuck _ wasn’t going anywhere but deeper into Geralt’s mouth. He carefully wove his fingers into that silver-white hair, scraping it back from Geralt’s temple to the crown, palming his skull gently. 

The desk rattled beneath him but Jaskier was lost in that sweet, wet heat that made all his higher brain functions shut down. It was him and Geralt and the pressure and suction and perfection that was his boyfriend’s mouth on his nearly painful erection.

Geralt took up the steadily increasing rhythm with a hand, using his other one to fondle Jaskier’s balls. “I can keep this up for a long time, Jask. You better get out of your head and focus on spilling down my throat so we can get you in that tux.”

Jaskier made some kind of wounded growl that surprised even him.  _ Do I sound like that when I’m desperate? Fuck. _ Geralt applied a little bit of pressure to his balls and Jaskier gasped, nearly bucking off the desk. “Oh fuck. Oh god.”

Geralt just chuckled, then bent his head and got to work. Soon the desk rattles and Jaskier’s whimpers and Geralt’s tiny, satisfied growls filled the room and neither one cared about the sounds they were making. Or who might walk by.

“Geralt, Geralt,” Jaskier chanted, both hands dug into Geralt’s hair. “I’m close.”

And then Geralt did something distracting and athletic and swoon-worthy and Jaskier was fully on his back on the desk; Geralt kneeling between his spread legs which he hooked over his shoulders, mouth on his cock and one spit-slick finger pressing inside him.

Jaskier bit the meat of his palm, bucked once more, and came. Geralt took every bit of what Jaskier gave him and only let up with he shifted with a breathless pant.

“Okay?” Geralt’s voice was rough and he was a fucking glorious mess. Heedless of his partial nudity, Jaskier slid down to the floor and kissed him. It was completely filthy, Jaskier licking up his own spend from inside Geralt’s mouth, wanting to drag him to the floor and fuck him.

“Yes. God fucking dammit. Yes.”

They breathed in tandem with each other for several long moments before Jaskier started forward with a yelp. “We have to go.”

Geralt nodded and drew up to his feet, helping Jaskier right his clothes. “Tuxs.”

Jaskier bit his lip and grinned. “Very important, those.”

“Better?”

Jaskier kissed him once more, this time slowly and with great care. “You have no idea.”

* * *

**_A few weeks ago_ **

_  
“Pops says you play the violin.” Ciri’s eyes were bright as she bounded up to Jaskier and Geralt, who were sorting through boxes of old crap the house’s previous owner had left in the basement. _

_ Geralt groaned. “Ciri.” _

_ “What?” _

_ Jaskier waved him off with a smile. “No, it’s fine. I used to, yes. I’m afraid it’s been a while since I’ve played.” He gave her an assessing look. “Did you want to learn how to play?” _

_ To his surprise, she shook her head. “I’m more of a drum girl.” _

_ Jaskier covered his laugh with a cough at the wide-eyed look of horror on Geralt’s face. “Please don’t tell me that’s what you’re asking for as a birthday present.” _

_ She grinned. “No, but I did want to see the look on your face when I said it.” The dogs barked upstairs and she patted Geralt’s hand before trotting off to see what they were doing. Meanwhile, Jaskier had to lean against the wall to keep from doubling over and wheezing with laughter. _

_ “She’s got your number, babe,” he said between laughs, a hand on his stomach, the other on his knees. “Oh my god, your face. Priceless.” _

_ Geralt grumbled something he couldn’t make out, making Jaskier laugh harder. He eventually gave in with a snort. “Shit, that kid.” _

_ “Way too clever for both of us, I think.” _

_ “Hmm.” Geralt’s eyes glittered mischievously. “Come here, you.” _

_ “Oh no.” He held his hands up in mock defense. “Don’t think you’re going to throw some musty, nasty thing at my face -” _

_ Geralt laughed before flipping open another box. “What the fuck?” _

_ Curious, Jaskier slipped in beside him. They were both staring down at an entire box full of old sheet music. “Huh.” Jaskier picked up a binder of loose leaf pages and started thumbing through it. “If you don’t want this -” _

_ “All yours.” Geralt kissed his slightly dusty cheek. “But with one caveat.” _

_ Jaskier knew that look. “I’m afraid to ask.” _

_ The grin he got in return shattered any willpower he had around this man. “I want to hear you play sometime.” _

* * *

  
The room glittered, the attendees were swathed in velvets and silks and beads, and in the middle of all of it Jaskier walked up to the microphone set up under that beautiful glass orb suspended above the room.

Geralt watched his boyfriend - his love, his everything - give him a grin so wide, so full of nerves and pride. Ciri clutched his hand, her little black silk gloves soft against his calluses. “Pops,” she breathed, eyes wide and glassy. “Jaskier did all this?”

He nodded. “Everyone gets help with big things like this, but yeah. This is his baby. His moment.”

“Wow.” She looked up at him in astonishment. “Did you tell him how proud you are?”

Geralt flashed back to hours earlier in that cramped little office, swallowing around Jaskier’s cock. “Many times. And when he’s all done with his speech, you can tell him thank you.” At her wide-eyed nod, he grinned and squeezed her hand. 

“I like your tux, Pops.” Ciri ran her fingers over the deep sunset orange embroidery on his cuffs. “Did Jaskier help you?”

Geralt straightened the bottom of his vest, which was covered in matching embroidery; a stunning combination against his deep black jacket. “Actually, no. Your Uncle Eskel did.” When her tongue poked out adorably between her teeth, he snickered. “I think Eskel’s uh….friend had a hand in it, too.” 

His gaze raked over the subtle, swirling floral embroidery on Jaskier’s midnight black jacket. He looked  _ incredible _ , but he always did. And they looked like a couple, their outfits and coloring complimenting each other, earning many stares as they’d come into the room earlier.

But tonight Jaskier was especially a feast for the eyes. He looked like a painting on the gallery walls, beautiful and poised and lithe and Geralt felt his heart thud in his chest with every breath.

Ciri seemed to be unaware of his plight as she gave a melodramatic sigh. “His boyfriend. One of them.”

_ Oh boy _ . “We will discuss that later, kid.”

“Okay.”

He squeezed her hand once more and they both turned when Jaskier’s voice, calm and clear as a river, echoed through the speakers placed in the room. “Welcome, everyone! If I could steal a moment of your time and an iota of your attention….”

And then he grinned and Geralt’s heart gave a lurch like nothing he’d ever felt before. He watched everyone stop talking and turn to Jaskier.

Flowers to his sun, ocean waves to his moon.

“You are all here tonight for an evening of art and music. You’re here to help fuel the next wave of creative thinkers and makers on the Continent.” Jaskier plucked his champagne glass from a nearby side table and motioned to the orchestra behind him. “Or you’re here because you wanted free champagne while listening to the White Orchard orchestra. Honest, if not downright admirable, since our tickets are still cheaper.”

The room laughed and Geralt saw Jaskier’s lips twitch in a proud smirk. “But you  _ are _ here. And that’s what matters. This is an evening about art, and what it does for anyone involved. That is not just the creator and the viewer. It’s  _ everyone _ .” With an elegant hand, Jaskier gestured to the glass orb above their heads. “This absolutely stunning piece was made by ten artists. But the shops they worked at, the small business owners who supplied the materials, the hot shop audiences who watched them create while not knowing what the final product would be? All part of the creative, artistic process.” 

Jaskier then waved that hand at the light reflecting off the walls and floors, the colors lazily swirling around them, making it look like they were bathing in the ocean. “You all are part of the process. You see this beauty, this stunning work, and maybe later on you dream of water. Maybe the colors remind you of the ocean, because you grew up near it. Maybe they remind you of your favorite painting, your favorite drink, or the color of your lover’s eyes.”

Jaskier’s gaze connected with his and Geralt gasped. No one was paying attention to him save Lambert, who only nudged Geralt’s shoulder with his own in a friendly gesture of solidarity.

“But no matter what or why, you are here. Your support helps keep Wolfshead Art and Film running, it keeps our creators inspired and making new things, and from the bottom of my heart, it inspires me, just like this orb above my head does.”

Geralt caught movement on the edge of the crowd and a uniformed staff member handed Jaskier something he couldn’t quite make out. “I haven’t played the violin in many years, and yet I find myself not nervous to play in front of some two hundred odd people. I’m  _ thrilled _ , even if I make a complete ass of myself. You all inspire me, as does this glass. As does the love of my life, who is here tonight.” Their gazes clashed again and now Geralt saw Jaskier raise a violin with a smile meant only for him.

“Jesus,” Lambert whispered. “You better marry that man, Geralt.”

His words were all but lost on Geralt as Jaskier began to play.

Music [HERE](https://open.spotify.com/track/6637MIrw6UymfrlEUdUH9U?si=8rUJx4qFSRuWFFz4tq4YGw)

He didn’t know the piece, couldn’t have picked it out of a book of sheet music. And he wouldn’t have dared try. It didn’t matter. Every single note was achingly, hauntingly perfect. Geralt knew it. Ciri knew it. The entire audience knew it as they all watched, enraptured, as Jaskier made that violin weep for them. His body sang with every note, every hair on his head prickling with awareness and pleasure.

Geralt wanted to fall to his knees before Jaskier. He wanted to cry or run into his arms.

Anything. Anything to be near him, to be with him.

When Jaskier finished the piece with a final note and a deep bow, the room erupted in applause. Geralt had to blink to clear his eyes, his breath coming out in a gasp. He stood there, Ciri’s hand gripped in his, as they both stared while Jaskier took another bow before he was instantly surrounded by party-goers.

“One of the greatest violinists to ever pass through the halls of Oxenfurt.” Geralt whirled, dropping Ciri’s hand while anger sparked in his chest. “No need, big man. I’m leaving. I only wanted to pay my respects.” 

Valdo was, of course, turned out in high style with a deep maroon jacket and matching vest. But there was a wariness in his eyes. “Leave.”

Valdo dipped his head, his pretty, arrogant face a mask of neutrality. Except the tiny flicker of hurt in his eyes as he said, “I am. I have heard him play one last time and understand what that means.” 

“I should make you apologize on your knees to him,” Geralt growled just as a familiar hand clapped down on his shoulder. 

“Let him go, Wolf.” Eskel’s voice was in his ear. “I’ll see him out.” Geralt realized that Ciri wasn’t beside him and, panicked, looked around. “Vesemir’s got her.”

“ _ We _ will see him out,” Lambert said as Raf completed the circle around Valdo. “And we need to talk to security, babe.”

“Understood.” Raf pointed a finger at Valdo. “You ever grace any of our doorways again -”   
  
Valdo rubbed a hand on his bruised jaw. “Not on your life, Lutz. I should have remembered you were a boxer.”

Lambert couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him. “We’re gonna talk about that tidbit later.”

“Get me drunk first.” Geralt could tell Raf was holding onto his temper by a thread; the joke was meant to diffuse his own anger, not anyone else’s. 

Lambert and Eskel took Valdo out the back door, Raf following in their wake to ensure they stayed hidden from Jaskier.

He held his hand out to Ciri, who jumped out of the crowd at him with concern on her face. “Pops?”

“Don’t worry. That was a cruel man, but he’s gone.”

She gazed at him with bird-bright eyes. “He hurt Jaskier.”

“Yeah, kid, he did. But he’s never coming back.”

Ciri wrinkled her nose, which was more adorable than it should have been. “I’ll kick him in the shins if I ever see him.”

While Geralt laughed - which did help ease the tension in his chest -Vesemir was by his side once more. “You really should let me put her in some classes, Wolf,” he said fondly.

“Well apparently Raf was a boxer so….” Geralt smiled down at her, trying to not let his face show his anger or concern. A wave of cold was washing over him now that Valdo was gone, and with any luck it was permanent status for the asshole. A drink sounded perfect about right now. “But we’ll talk about that later. Let’s go see Jaskier and get you some food.”

* * *

Jaskier was utterly  _ mobbed _ by cooing, adoring fans after his performance. Some of them knew who he was but they seemed to be few and far between, which he was eternally grateful for. Even fewer knew his parents, which was a fucking blessing in disguise. Even the conductor of the orchestra, a notoriously stuffy man with only wisps of hair on the side of his head and a penchant for cigars, congratulated him on one of the “most architecturally sound performances I’ve ever heard.”

The man might as well have told him he’d won the lottery. It was high, high praise.

When he finally managed to slip away and find Geralt and Ciri, Raf snagged him by the arm into a giant hug. “You utterly brilliant fool,” Raf said with a grin. “You surprised all of us. Including me. Your  _ best friend _ .”

Jaskier chuckled and looked away. “Well, I figured if I fucked it up then I could flagellate in private afterwards without you lot nosing around.”

“Ha, very funny.” Raf took the sides of his face into his palms and looked him in the eyes. “You were  _ brilliant _ . And because of that performance, we’ve had a record number of bids in the auction and entries in the raffles.” His grin broke wider. “Record-setting to the tune of three years of operating costs and securing funds for next year’s gala.”

“What?” Jaskier’s eyebrows flew toward his hairline, not caring about the shocked look on his face that drew a few curious glances. 

“I can’t tell if my timing is good or bad here,” Geralt said from behind him, and soon Jaskier was pulled into a hug and being gripped by two strong arms while Ciri jumped up and down and gazed adoringly at them. As Jaskier filled them in and Raf rambled about future plans, he watched Eskel, Lambert, and Vesemir join the little group.

It hit Jaskier all at once. He was surrounded. By family and the man he’d do anything for. By the artists and volunteers and patrons who saw their cause as just and good and worthy. 

He was surrounded by  _ love _ . Basking in it. Revelling in it. Glorious, heart-stopping, warm as a blanket on an autumn night….

_ Love _

His breath gusted out of him in shock, drawing Geralt closer to him. “Are you okay?” 

Geralt’s hand was a warm, steady pressure on the small of his back, those amber eyes watching him closely. “Yes,” he said softly, cupping Geralt’s cheek with his hand. “I really am.”

* * *

The gala was an unbridled success. They did, in fact, raise as much money as Raf had said and more. Every single replica of the “Pale Blue Dot” orb - for that was its name, as well as the name of the gala - had sold for ridiculously high figures. And as the attendees were invited to dance as the evening wore on, Jaskier held out a hand to Geralt with an inquiring expression on his face. “Do me the honors?”

Of course he would.

Geralt actually  _ could _ dance, and Jaskier was delighted. The color was high in his cheeks and he wouldn’t stop smiling. Which meant Geralt couldn’t stop smiling, either. Especially not when they flowed gently, like lapping water, around the edges of the dance floor, his hand engulfing Jaskier’s and his other gentle on that bird wing-like hip. 

They moved softly around, against each other, not caring if anyone watched. It didn’t matter. He only had eyes for the man in his arms.

“I love this color on you,” Jaskier purred, batting long, dark eyelashes at him. “That burnt orange is delectable.”

Geralt chuckled, ducking his head against the compliment. “I don’t think I hold up against you, babe.”

“Pish, oh please.” Jaskier batted an airy hand at him, grinning. “Everyone wonders how I snagged the famous  _ White Wolf _ .”

Geralt groaned good-naturedly. “I should have never told you that story.”

“Think you remember the recipe?”

“Oh no.”

“Oh  _ yes _ .” And then Jaskier laughed again, high and bright and as delighted as anything Geralt had seen outside the bedroom. “We can experiment.”

“I’m not making moonshine in my basement, Jask.”

Jaskier shrugged, unperturbed. “So we’ll make beer.”

Geralt hummed in thought at that just as the song ended and Ciri bounded up to them, only to be swept up by Jaskier for another dance.

His heart constricted at the sight they made. Jaskier in his perfectly tailored tuxedo and Ciri in her white and black dress, him spinning her around like he was born to do so. She laughed and laughed but held on tight, grinning the entire time.

The next weekend, Geralt went shopping for a ring.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt and Ciri spend an afternoon with Jaskier; Geralt buys a ring.
> 
> And a proposal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cried a lot writing this, so please enjoy me dumping out my box of emotions.
> 
> Shoutout to my friend Keikei for being an early reader on these last several chapters and sending me feedback and love.

It was a bright winter Saturday, just a week after the gala, when Jaskier picked his violin up for the second time in a month and began to play.

Some of the money secured from the gala was going to some much needed repairs, so Wolfshead Art & Film and its gallery were closed for a few days. Which meant Jaskier could actually get into the music studio to record. It was just a tiny booth only fit for one person, but that was all he needed to record.

The piece he’d played at the gala wasn’t an original composition, but it  _ had _ greatly increased a community interest in the flagging music scene in White Orchard. The studio was booked for several solid months and he and Raf were already eyeing a much larger space up the road. 

If it all worked out, they’d have to add to the organization’s name. Or, as Raf suggested, simply change it. After some good-natured bickering, they settled on the new name. 

_ Wolfshead Productions _

But for now, as Wolfshead Art & Film got some upgrades. And Jaskier had a few moments of quiet, he was going to record.

It felt oddly natural to work through the little rituals that had held him during his studies. A cup of mint tea to loosen not just the body, but the mind. The way time slowed as he checked every string. That final deep breath before lifting the instrument and settling its familiar, welcome weight against his shoulder and under his chin.

And he played. He played with his eyes closed, no need to see any sheet music even though it was propped up before him. Once he played a piece the first time, he remembered every note, every flow and swoop, every fluttering wing of sound that took flight under his fingers and passion.

Jaskier remembered the feeling of playing and it sang in his bones and his blood like he was born to do it.

The final strains of the piece slowly died, curling in on themselves and settling to rest. He waited a beat, then hit the record button to OFF. 

His heart sped up to a normal rate even as his fingers ached from lack of practice over the years. But he was happy. His eyes lifted as he glanced through the studio’s glass to see Geralt and Ciri entering and now his breathing quickened.

His love. His love’s daughter, a child he was growing rather attached to rather quickly.

His life. 

His life walking through that door and waving and smiling as they noticed him. Jaskier blinked quickly, shook himself, and gently put his violin back in the case before heading out to greet them. “Right on time, as usual!” He called out with a smile. Geralt greeted him with a chaste peck on the lips and when Ciri giggled, he poked her playfully in the arm. “Surely that didn’t scandalize you, little sparrow.”

She scrunched her nose in thought. “Sparrow?”

Jaskier made a fluttering motion with his fingers. “You know, the little songbirds?” At her nod, he continued. “Little sparrow. Fast and fierce, though. Don’t let the  _ little _ part fool you.” He gave her an exaggerated wink. “I know you better than that.”

Ciri launched herself at Jaskier and he barely had time to react before catching her, gangly arms nearly knocking the wind from him. He heard Geralt’s telltale breathy chuckle and glared daggers his way. “Laugh it up, love.”

He kept laughing, grin wide. “She does that to me all the time. Only fair she does it to you now, too.”

“Yep!” Ciri said, voice bright. “So are we really going to the pottery studio?”

Jaskier set her down gently and tried to school his face into a stern expression. “Yes, and it’s a very serious place -“ But he had no willpower around her, barely had any around her father. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” But he took off like a shot as she gave chase, the both of them laughing, dashing through the halls to the back of the gallery. Jaskier heard Geralt follow behind, using their noise as his radar.

Once Jaskier gave them the quick tour, he settled Geralt and Ciri in front of a workstation. “I think we’ll start on the tables,” he said as he unwrapped bricks of dark grey clay. “Now I know it doesn’t look like much, but clay is remarkable. You can mold it, shape it, give it any form only limited by your imagination.” He nudged Geralt’s shoulder as he swung by to sit down beside Ciri. “And once you get it where you want, we can glaze it in a bunch of different colors and then we’ll leave it for one of the artists to fire tomorrow. And then I’ll bring the finished pieces home at the end of the week.”

As Ciri hemmed and hawed over her lump of clay, Jaskier cupped his chin in his hand and watched Geralt stare at his own with an unreadable expression. “Glaring at it won’t make it leap into shape, love.”

“Then I’m not trying hard enough.” But Geralt’s glower melted under the warmth of Jaskier’s stare. “What am I supposed to make?”

“Pops,” Ciri said, exasperated as she started fussing with the clay, sticking her fingers into it to see what it would do. “Anything! Didn’t you listen when Jaskier said that?”

“I always listen to him,” Geralt teased softly, eyes tracking back over to Jaskier. “Even when he tells me the pottery studio is a good idea. I can’t even make  _ Ghost _ jokes without the right equipment.”

Jaskier snorted but stayed silent, watching the two of them putter and poke and prod the clay. After a bit of watching Ciri try to make a few basic shapes, Jaskier sat down beside her and they worked together, rolling the clay and shaping it. Jaskier knew a bit about working this way, so he helped her make a body to start the dog.

“So once you have that about the right size - not the shape yet, that’s okay - then we’ll set that aside and work on the next part.” He grinned down at her. “I like making the limbs next, cause then you can kind of see it start to come together.”

“Let’s do that.”

They bent their heads, blonde and brown, and focused. Jaskier could feel Geralt’s eyes on them and when he glanced that way, Geralt was grinning but his eyes were suspiciously bright. Jaskier clucked at him and nudged Ciri’s shoulder with his own. “I think your Pops is getting misty-eyed over there.”

Geralt didn’t even try to deny it. “You two are cute together.”

Ciri beamed and gave Jaskier an adoring look. “Did you know we’re cute?”

“The cutest, of course.” He put his chin in his hand and gazed at Geralt. “Just adorable.” And then he smirked and let his eyes roam over Geralt’s figure, perfection in a burnt orange and grey cashmere sweater Jaskier had given him. “Ciri, would it gross you out if I said I thought your Pops was pretty adorable, too?”

She snickered and sounded almost  _ exactly _ like Geralt in that moment. “No, but I have a two sentiment maximum there.”

Geralt barked out a laugh. “Called out, Jask.”

“Don’t I know it,” he replied before planting a kiss on the top of Ciri’s head. 

Just as Ciri started making a third vaguely animal-shaped leg, he stood and offered to get everyone drinks. “Daisy?” He guessed, pointing at Ciri’s figure.

“And Dandi, too, if it’s okay for me to have more clay.”

Jaskier’s heart constricted. “Of course. Work on that until I get back and then I’ll get you another brick.”

With a smile like a beam of sunlight directed at him from that little girl, Jaskier brushed his lips over Geralt’s temple before retreating from the room.

* * *

Ciri poked her clay a few more times, then formed a tail out of a spare hunk, rolling it between her hands. Geralt knew that look on her face. “What’s wrong?”

She looked up, green eyes backlit by the late afternoon sun. “I have a question but I don’t know if it’s okay to ask.”

He blinked. “What? Ciri -“ Geralt reached across the table to take one of her hands in his. “You know my rules. No secrets, and -“

“And no question is stupid. We should question things.” The rhythm of her words was easy, familiar. Not a child exasperated by having to repeat some rota. “I know. But this is different.”

Confused even more, Geralt abandoned his seat for the one to her right. “What’s up?”

Her nose twitched in thought for several long moments. “You love him.”

They’d had a few conversations about Jaskier - some with Jask in the room - to ensure that Ciri understood she wasn’t being supplanted (which  _ did _ earn Geralt a truly epic eye roll and Jaskier’s smothered laughter). To make sure she was as okay as they were with her dad dating, having a boyfriend. Ciri’s answer had been to fling herself into Jaskier’s arms and hug him around the neck until Jaskier’s face turned red and unshed tears glistened in his eyes.

But now she looked confused. Concerned, maybe? Geralt’s gut twisted at that. “I do. Is there something wrong? Do you -“

She shook her head. “Pops, nothing’s wrong. But you love him. And he loves you. And I love him, too.” Geralt gasped but she seemed to not notice as she continued. “So when are you going to marry him?”

She might as well have punched him in the gut. He had been planning on that conversation later, when it was just the two of them for dinner as Jaskier was meeting with Raf for a friend’s night out. He’d been agonizing over it for days, since the night of the gala; talking to himself in the shower, imagining how he’d approach it with his far too bright child.

And here she was, once again, blowing his plans apart and shocking the hell out of him.

“I want two parents,” she said softly, now not looking at him. “Jaskier’s kind and already treats me like his.” He saw her swallow hard and continue to fidget with the clay between her fingers. “And you love him and he loves you and I want my Pops  _ and _ my Dad.” Now a tear slipped over her cheek, making Geralt launch into action, pulling her to him. “Is that selfish? It’s not that you’re not enough -“

_ Christ fuck all mighty _ . Geralt held her as she sniffled. Even as a baby Ciri wasn’t a crier, more a silent or stifled sobber who would whimper softly, shudder, and then slowly come back to normalcy. “Ciri. God, you’re killing me.” Gently, he pulled her face up so he could look her in the eyes. “That’s not selfish. Everyone wants. And you don’t worry about me. I uh….I wanted to talk to you about this tonight, actually.” She sniffled again and he wiped away the tears with his thumb. “I need your discerning eye.”

Ciri wrapped her little hand around his wrist and squeezed. “What does that mean?”

Geralt listened for a moment to ensure there were no footsteps coming down the hall before he leaned in and whispered, “I’m going to ask Jaskier to marry me. When we go up to the coast.” Ciri gasped and clung to him tighter. “You  _ cannot _ say a word, even to Gramps or your uncles. Or Raf. Just you and I know this, okay?”

Her eyes comically large in her angelic face, she nodded. “I swear! Did you buy the ring?”

“Not yet. I need you to help me pick it out.” He cast a wary eye at the door to the pottery studio. “Now he’s gonna come back any minute so over to your seat. After this, we’ll get some food and then go look, okay?”

Ciri nodded and dove in to kiss him on the cheek. “I’m really happy.”

Geralt bumped his forehead against hers. “So am I.”

When Jaskier came back with a tray of coffee (plus a cup of mint tea for the kid), he found Ciri focusing very hard on her dog, which she hadn’t made much progress on. “Stuck already?” He asked sympathetically. “The plight of the artist, I’m afraid. A sad truth I was hoping to hide from you from for a bit longer.” Jaskier gave Geralt a wink, which got him a snort in return. “But I think together we can work on this, yeah?”

Ciri nodded and watched Jaskier carefully as he began to form a final leg for the dog. They chatted about her school work and potential drum lessons (which made Geralt frown, and they both laughed), but also about the aikido classes Vesemir had signed her up for. 

Geralt watched them while sipping his coffee, wileing the day away in the presence of the two people he loved the most. And that was saying something, given he was surrounded by people he loved

* * *

Ciri and Geralt entered the little family run jewelry store in downtown White Orchard just after six pm, mostly in his hopes that it would be empty and they might not run into anyone they - or especially Jaskier - would know. 

The store’s bell dinged cheerily as they entered and the sole shopkeep behind the shining glass counters waved at them. “Hey y’all! Welcome!” She was a kindly-looking grandmotherly sort, dressed smartly in a fitted dark grey suit with a bright yellow top beneath. Her jewelry was tasteful, all rose gold that winked at her ears, throat, and hands. Understated, but beautiful.

Geralt already liked her.

“Is there something I can help with, or would you rather just browse?” She twisted one of the rings on her index finger with a smile.

Geralt looked around, suddenly self-conscious. He really thought he could do this with just Ciri’s help but the pristine counters and myriad of options encased in glass were a bit overwhelming. “Actually, some help would be nice.” He felt Ciri squeeze his hand and he gave her a smile, forcing confidence where he felt he was floundering. “I’m looking for a ring. An engagement ring.”

The woman grinned. “Oh honey, congratulations! I’m honored y’all would come here!” She waved a hand at the shop. “This has been in my family for a couple of generations now and every time we get someone coming in for that special thing for their loved one, it just makes my heart sing.” She looked down, smile closing off just a little. “Apologies. It’s just so nice to see folks in love.”

Geralt’s heart nearly snapped in half. Something in her voice told of loss, of grief. Of nights alone in a bed that had once held two. The way she was twisting that ring, the flicker of something sad on her face... “No need to apologize. You love what you do.”

A smile flared back to life on her face. “And I love a good proposal. I can show you a few of our more popular designs, or we can look at something custom -“

But Ciri was already tugging him over to a far display case, her touch insistent. “Looks like the kid found something,” he chuckled, letting the woman follow in their wake. He glanced the name  _ Sylvie _ on her name tag and wanted to remember to use it.

“It reminds me of his eyes,” she breathed, pointing to something way back in the case, more on her eyeline than Geralt’s. After a bit of fumbling to get the right one, Sylvia put the band in a velvet box for Geralt’s inspection. “I like your style, young lady,” Sylvie said with a grin. “We don’t get a lot of calls for sapphires in engagement jewelry, usually emeralds or rubies or of course diamonds.” She leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, “But honestly, these are far more pretty.”

Ciri nodded. “His eyes are really blue. Sometimes. Other times they’re not.”

Geralt heard them chatter away but he was sliding hesitant fingers over the band. It was a thicker band of polished white gold, but in the middle of the band was a ring of matte metal. “Those are handmade, and there are only a few left.” Sylvie swallowed hard. “The maker’s passed on and we just haven’t had much interest in them, but they’re so pretty I couldn’t bear to part with them.”

The small sapphires in the middle ran at a diagonal; their deep ocean blue surfaces glinting brightly in those overhead lights all jewelry stores had. Geralt swallowed hard, already knowing this was the one. “Sylvie, do you have anything that compliments this? I want us both to have one.”

The smile on Sylvie’s face kept growing. “I think I have to sell these to you, sir. Funny you should ask. Give me a moment.” She walked over to a small counter far away, rummaged below, and came back with a dark green box. “I always hoped my sentimentality would help someone some day.”

Sylvie turned the box around and opened it. Inside was an identical band to the one Geralt held, except the stones were the deep golden amber of topaz. “Holy shit,” he whispered, and for once Ciri didn’t even giggle at his blaspheme. They were all staring at the bands for a long, quiet moment.

Something clicked in his mind. At his curious gaze, Sylvie hung her head. “My wife. She did all the custom work here, and these were some of the last things she made.” Her voice wavered but her grey eyes stayed on his. “I think you need this. And my shop discount. I won’t take no for an answer.”

* * *

**_Three weeks later; more than six months into Jaskier and Geralt’s relationship_ **

The mountains outside their window shone in the early morning light. To Jaskier’s eyes, it was like watching the world breathe softly and awaken. A light dusting of snow coated the outside in diamonds and while it wasn’t enough to go romp in, it made everything that much more beautiful.

“Jask?”

Jaskier turned in his chair, gazing over one shoulder at Geralt. He was sprawled on their bed gloriously nude and blinking sleepily in the dim light. “Shhh. Go back to sleep.”

Geralt patted the bed. “Come back.”

“How can I say no?” Jaskier smiled softly as he stood and pulled the blanket around his shoulders over them both. It was comically small on Geralt’s massive frame, and their feet stuck out from the soft fleece. But Geralt simply rolled over, plucked up another blanket that had slipped off the bed in the night, and threw it over them.

His back curled against Geralt’s chest, Jaskier listened to his slow, easy breaths; felt the weight and warmth of his arm around his waist. Only the whistle of wind and the crackle of the little gas fireplace filled the space. Geralt hummed in his ear, content and relaxed.

Jaskier didn’t remember falling back asleep but he woke up a few hours later in the exact same spot. But now there was an insistent, hard length pressed into the small of his back. “Geralt,” he murmured, trying to turn to face his boyfriend.

Geralt’s arm around him tightened. “Just stay there.”

“But -”

“I’m good.” Geralt buried his face in Jaskier’s hair, making him shiver at the breath on his neck. “Not every erection needs help, you know.”

He snorted. “Oof, too real. I spent too many years like that.”

“Helping your own erections? No wonder you come so quickly.”

Jaskier gave a mock outraged gasp and now did turn in Geralt’s arms. “You hurt my feelings, darling.” He gave that beautiful body and pale skin a long, lascivious look. So Geralt would feel the heat of his gaze. The depth of his desire.

Geralt scooped him closer, until they could kiss without straining their necks. “How should I make it up to you?”

Jaskier’s lip twitched. “I’m sure I’ll think of something.” He raised an eyebrow. “But not on an empty stomach.”

Geralt groaned good-naturedly. “This is going to bite me in the ass, isn’t it?”

“Yep!” Jaskier said cheerily, snuggling closer, pressing their bodies together from shoulder to toes. “Or, you could let me do that.”

“Ugh.”

He snickered. “You keep making that noise, Ciri’s going to pick up it up as an unshakeable habit. She already sounds more and more like you every day.”

“Poor kid.” But Geralt was grinning. Jaskier saw the flash of his teeth before he was being kissed softly, Geralt’s hand wandering about the sensitive skin on his waist. 

They had nowhere to go. No demands on their time. Just a beautiful room in a cabin on the coast, surrounded by the snow-dappled mountains in the distance. With a wink and a promise, Geralt had basically bundled Jaskier and a suitcase into his car and drove them north, following the long coastal highway. Jaskier knew about the trip but didn’t know the exact destination, and he must have looked stunned when they pulled up to the isolated home deep in the pine forest.

Lambert, Eskel, and Raf would be renting the cabin up the road in a few days, Vesemir and Ciri tagging along to stay in a fishing hut just down the hill. Their days would be spent with family, but their nights would be theirs. Locked away in a cabin with warm blankets, a fully stocked liquor cabinet, and a sunken tub big enough for half a dozen people.

Jaskier was in heaven. 

Once the sky cleared they were going hiking, trekking up a trail Geralt knew well and insisted he’d love. But that was hours and at least a hundred kisses from now.

* * *

“Oh.” Jaskier turned around, not even minding he was slightly out of breath. “Geralt.”

Geralt leaned against a tree and watched him with those amber eyes. “Told you,” he said with a chuckle.

“I mean you did, but….” Jaskier stared up at the soaring waterfall. It was frozen solid, a masterpiece of nature’s art and power. Tapered icicles, some easily ten or so feet in length and as thick around as his bicep, hung from the uppermost rocky cliff of the falls. From there, the ice diminished a little bit with each ledge down, ending in a frozen lake sprinkled with snow.

“First time I saw the falls like this was fifteen years ago. I was just a kid, barely out of the military. Lambert knew about this trail and basically kicked my ass out of my apartment, telling me the fresh air would do me good.” He shook his head with a fond smile. “He was right. I come back here every year.”

Jaskier was still gazing in wonder as he said, “When you first saw it, how did you feel?”

There was a rustling noise as Geralt shifted against the tree, drawing Jaskier’s gaze. “Very small, to be honest. Like no matter what I’d done or seen or experienced, it didn’t matter in the face of something so beautiful. But the longer I stood there, the more I realized that way of thinking was old Geralt rearing his idiot head. The one who enlisted because he thought he didn’t matter. The one who did stupid things and took stupid risks and still walked away.” He sucked in a lungful of cold air, crossed his arms over his chest. “I wanted to matter. To change. To live a full life instead of one chasing down empty roads always looking for something to make it all better.”

Jaskier went to stand before him, gloved hands rubbing up and down Geralt’s arms. “And you did.”

“Yeah. I did. I’m uh, not the most patient person so I used to get frustrated when things wouldn’t just fall into place.” He touched Jaskier’s cheek with fingers wrapped in smooth leather. “But Ciri taught me a lot. And I know you will, too. You already have. I’m so grateful.”

Jaskier’s heart swelled near to bursting. His grin and those blue bedroom eyes could have melted the very ice behind them as he said, “I love you, Geralt.”

Geralt leaned down and kissed him so sweetly, so thoroughly he could still taste the boysenberry jam from their scones hours ago. “I love you,” he whispered, pulling Jaskier close. “And if I don’t do this now, I don’t know that I’ll find another perfect moment.”

Jaskier’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion until a second later when Geralt dropped to one knee. His free hand withdrew a dark green ring box and with a simple flourish, opened it. “Geralt.” He could barely say it beyond the hammering of his heart in his ears. 

Geralt swallowed thickly. “I love you. And I want to keep loving you forever. Please be mine. Please be Ciri’s dad. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

This was absolutely more than Jaskier could have ever hoped for. Everything inside him burst forth in a flood, a torrent of joy and love and happiness. Tears were already pouring down Jaskier’s face but he reached out a shaking hand to brush his finger over the band. “Oh my god, Geralt, of course. Of course I’ll marry you.”

Geralt was on his feet instantly, gently prying the ring from its nest of velvet and taking Jaskier’s hand. Together they slipped the ring on his finger and stood there, wrapped in each other’s warmth and admiring the way the ring sparkled. 

And then Jaskier was crushing his mouth to Geralt’s and making happy, contented sounds. He only broke away to gasp, “We should get you something.”

With a chuckle, Geralt pulled back just enough to wedge a hand into his coat and withdraw another box, but handed it still closed to Jaskier. “I hope I didn’t ruin any plans from the brilliant brain.”

Jaskier scoffed but he could feel heat creeping up on his face at Geralt’s compliment. “What is - oh, Geralt.” He held his hand next to the ring in the box. “Oh my god. These are so beautiful. Can I put this on you?”

Geralt nodded and tore off his glove with his teeth, shoving it in a pocket before letting Jaskier take his hand. With both rings secured on their fingers, Jaskier took a great, shuddering breath before tugging Geralt to him once more. “I can’t believe you found a matching set. These are  _ gorgeous _ , my love.”

Geralt glowed with pride. “Actually Ciri found yours.” He told Jaskier the story of buying the rings and how they’d been made by Sylvie’s wife. By the time he was finished, they were both crying.

“Do you believe in Fate, Geralt?” Jaskier whispered softly as they held each other.

“I do now.”

* * *

“They’re going to see the rings, darling.”

Geralt shrugged. “That’s what gloves are for.”

Jaskier wasn’t convinced, but he was smiling. “So you have no idea how to tell them.”

Geralt groaned and rubbed his forehead. “I hate that I’m so obvious.”

Jaskier tugged him down for a kiss just as a large SUV drop up to the cabin Raf, Eskel, and Lambert were staying in. “Just to me, love. Just to me. And let’s do it tonight, with champagne. We still have a few bottles in the car that we didn’t unpack.”

Geralt couldn’t say no. 

The SUV stopped shy of them and then Ciri bounded out of the back, followed by Eskel and Raf. Lambert and Vesemir climbed out of the front and soon everyone was hugging and laughing and helping unpack luggage.

“Good lord old man, what the fuck is in here?” Eskel grumbled as he heaved out a heavy wooden box from the back.

“Root vegetables from the garden. You lot eat more than anyone I’ve ever seen and I’m not paying twice the price for those shrimpy nuggets of malnutrition you get down at the general store.”

They all stopped and stared at Vesemir, who was stomping snow off his boots. Lambert was the first one to laugh. “Holy shit, that’s more than you said on the entire drive up here.”

And the good-natured ribbing started up again, even as Vesemir’s ears turned red.

As they all moved into a routine of carting in things from the back of the vehicle, Raf pulled Jaskier aside. “Out with it.”

Jaskier gave him an innocent look. “What?”

“I know that glimmer in your eyes, Julian Pankratz. Don’t you try to fool me.” When Jaskier didn’t answer, knowing he’d spill his guts in a heartbeat but not wanting to ruin Geralt’s surprise, Raf huffed and slung an arm around his shoulders. “Fine, keep your secrets. But I’ll figure it out.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes and when his gaze flickered back to his friend, he caught the flash of something under his shirt, around his neck. “What’s this?” He reached for it, only to be slapped away. “Ow.”

Raf laughed. “Oh, so you can have secrets, but I can’t?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Whatever it is, just tell him, Raf. Otherwise he’ll pout.” Geralt was standing on the front porch, arms folded over the railing and watching them with an amused smile. “I would have figured you’d know that by now.”

“True, but I’ve also learned to never give in to him when he pulls up those sad puppy eyes.” Raf elbowed Jaskier in the ribs, who took it in stride. 

“Is this gang up on me day?” Jaskier said, putting on an exaggerated pout and making Raf and Geralt laugh. “Mean. Cruel. Awful. I don’t know why I agreed to this.”

With a snort, Geralt led them inside and they all began to roam around, exploring every drawer and cabinet. Ciri squealed in delight at the aquarium full of tropical fish while Raf and Eskel ambled upstairs to properly inspect the massive sunken tub in the master bathroom.

A few minutes later there was a notable thump above their heads. Curiously right where that master bathroom was. “I better go check on them,” Lambert said, swatting Jaskier on the ass as he strode by.

“Ow.” Jaskier rubbed a hand over his rear. “Scratch that.  _ Ow _ .”

Geralt sighed. “Lambert’s always had a thing for a good ass.” He glanced around and Jaskier knew that  _ look _ , caught it a moment before Geralt hemmed him in against the counter. “Hmmm, I can’t wait to tell them tonight.”

Jaskier found himself pinned by Geralt’s weight and a pair of insistent hands. And an even more insistent mouth, one that was nipping and sucking a path down his neck and turning Jaskier’s knees to jelly.

“Not in the kitchen!” they heard Vesemir yell, making them laugh and reluctantly slide apart. 

* * *

“Oh gods,” Raf said, leaning back in his chair. “That was amazing.”

Of all things, Vesemir almost glowed under the heartfelt compliment. “Shit, it’s nothing. I’ve always liked cooking, and making food for these three gave me plenty of opportunities to experiment.”

Geralt listened to the soft chatter around the table with a smile. Everyone was a little too full from pot roast and vegetables and soft, warm bread. They hadn’t broken out anything stronger than beer yet, but Jaskier was already fetching the champagne he’d stashed in the car. 

The front door opened and Geralt caught sight of Jaskier brushing snow from his hair before shifting the small box under his arm. “A bit of a treat for tonight,” he said happily. Geralt almost laughed at how he was awkwardly holding the box to hide his ring. They’d taken the rings off once dinner preparations had begun, not wanting to spoil anything. There were too many sharp eyes in their little group.

As Geralt slipped his own ring on under the table, he wondered who would catch it first. A quick glance at Ciri told him she knew what they were up to but she was doing shockingly well schooling the anticipation off her face.

As casual as could be, Jaskier set the box down on the table. “A little celebration drink is in order, I think.” He winked at Ciri. “And apparently someone has agreed to let you have one tiny sip, sparrow.”

Eskel nudged Ciri in the shoulder. “Living the dream, kid,” which made her laugh.

Everyone started cleaning up while Jaskier pulled the champagne bottles out and set them on the table. He hummed something that had been stuck in his head all day, some bright tune that felt good. 

“Holy shit.”

Jaskier turned to see Lambert crushing Geralt into a hug, Geralt’s immediate shock melting into joy. “I knew I should have made a bet with Jask on who would spot it first,” he groused, but he hugged Lambert back.

The confusion in the room melted away slowly as realization dawned once Raf pulled on Jaskier’s left hand. “You  _ bastard _ ,” he said fondly, holding his hand up. “That’s what you were hiding!”

The room practically exploded with joy. Jaskier found himself telling the story of how Geralt proposed, his smile so wide and so damn  _ happy _ Geralt couldn’t stop staring at him. Eskel fussed with the champagne and soon everyone had a glass, with Geralt letting Ciri have a sip from his.

“I’m not big on speeches, not like this one,” Geralt teased as he kissed Jaskier’s cheek, making Jaskier beam and flush endearingly.

“You better practice for the wedding, Wolf!” Lambert yelled as he hugged Raf to him, Eskel on his other side. Vesemir had Ciri on his shoulders, both of them smiling.

Geralt waved him off, middle finger strangely stuck in an upright position. “So I’ll make this very simple. Jask and I have already talked a bit about what we want to do. We want you all there. It’s that simple because we love you all.”

“So much,” Jaskier said before slipping out of Geralt’s embrace and going to stand before Ciri, who swung down from Vesemir’s grasp. He knelt in front of her, left hand out to her. “I know Geralt said you had a big part in this. And I know you and he have talked but I just want you to know I love you and I only want what’s best for you -“

Ciri flung herself into Jaskier’s arms, taking them both down to the floor in a fit of tears and giggles. She whispered something into his ear that made Jaskier sob and bury his face in her shoulder while she clung to him.

Hours later, when everyone had gone to bed and Ciri was fast asleep and tucked between them, Geralt looked at Jaskier over her head. “Do I get to know?”

Jaskier blinked sleepily but didn’t stop stroking her hair. Geralt sat his hand on top of Jaskier’s, tangling their fingers together. “She called me Dad.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wedding is had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m over the moon at how much love y’all have given this fic. Thank you for reading and commenting and attempting to smash the kudos button a bunch.

They waited until spring. It would have been easy to get that piece of paper saying they were married and been done with it - and they heavily debated doing so a few times - but the romantic in Jaskier wanted only a couple of things.

An outdoor party, and to exchange vows in front of their loved ones. Those were two things Geralt would do anything to give him, so that’s what they planned.

Other things like where to live actually came about easier. Geralt’s house was fully renovated, where Jaskier’s wasn’t. Ciri had her bedroom just so, and neither one of them were going to move her from that spot. And then much to Jaskier’s surprise, Raf came to him with an offer one day after Yule.

“I want to buy your house,” he said as he flopped down into the new chair beside Jaskier’s new desk. Which he was seated at in an equally new and highly ergonomic chair of his own.

“Hmmm?” Jaskier was head down over his laptop, running budgets for the next year. “Sure, yeah.”

“Jask.” Raf waited until his friend looked up and blinked bleary eyes. “Your house.”

“Yeah?” 

Raf held back a snicker. “You were talking about selling it. Is that still the case?

Jaskier nodded slowly. “Yeah, why?”

Raf gave him a fond sigh. “Because, as I said moments ago when your head was buried in spreadsheets, I want to buy it.”

“Really?”

“Why not? I already decorated it. And I can then have a place of my own -“

Now Jaskier understood. “With room enough for all three of you?”

Raf rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “Something like that. For when they want to stay.”

“You’re serious about this.” Jaskier gave him the once over and saw no hesitation on his friend’s face. “It certainly makes things easier on my end. But Raf -“

“Ah, no. I know what you’re going to say. And yes, I’m very serious. Plus moving beside my best friend and his husband and my new niece?” The smile on Raf’s face hit Jaskier in the heart with its honesty. “I want it. Badly. I’m coming to understand that my bachelor ways aren’t holding up so well in the harsh light of day.”

Now Jaskier put his hand on Raf’s. “Is this because of me and Geralt?”

Raf looked away, color rising on his face. “Maybe. Maybe I’m a...oh don’t make me say it.”

Jaskier smiled softly. “A soft touch? A fan of love? A _lover_ of love?”

Raf’s nose wrinkled. “Gross.” But then his smile dropped and his friend looked older, wiser, and a bit sad. “I was going to say jealous.”

“Raf.”

“I’m serious. And my ways of old won’t help me keep the two most amazing men I’ve ever met. They’re here, and they like it here and I don’t want to give that up.” He poked Jaskier in the shoulder. “So yes, this is a little bit your fault, but only because you dragged me kicking and screaming into a truth I didn’t want to examine on my own. But I want it, and them.” The grin was back. “And buying your house is a good way for me to start putting down roots.”

That night at dinner, Raf told Geralt and Ciri his plans. Immediately he and Ciri were peas in a pod, planning to bug Vesemir into teaching them to garden and talking about compost so earnestly Jaskier could hardly believe his ears.

He stared at Geralt, who hid his laugh in his fist. “Surprised me, too,” Jaskier said softly in Geralt’s ear as he looked down at their rings. “But I get it.”

* * *

“After you, madame,” Jaskier said, sweeping into a low bow as he held the shop door open for Ciri.

“Thank you kindly, good sir,” she said before giggling.

He chuckled and followed after her. The shop was warm and brightly lit, but not by those harsh white overhead lights so many places employed. This was a  _ boutique _ and it was where they were going to get Ciri’s dress for the wedding. Geralt was getting other arrangements made, leaving Jaskier and Ciri to do a little bonding and shopping.

They were quickly greeted by young woman dressed in the boutique’s trademark dark maroon, and then bustled back into a private booth where Ciri could try on outfits to her heart’s content.

Soon the dressing room was covered in hangers and Jaskier was given a glass of champagne and a rather comfortable chair to wait in while Ciri changed behind a massive curtain.

“You know it doesn’t have to be a dress? It can be whatever you want,” he said, sipping from his glass and eyeing the various outfits waiting for her to try on. Most of them were dresses but he caught sight of a few smart little suits as well.

“I know,” she said. “But if I find a dress, that’s okay too.”

“It is.” His hand twitched near his jacket pocket but he bit down on the urge. It would ruin the surprise and he wanted to wait until she found her wedding outfit.

The curtain was flung back and Ciri was standing in a dark forest green dress that reached the floor. Lace cap sleeves and a bit of lace at the throat dipped into a sweetheart neckline. The dress was fitted through the torso and then flared out. And with her hair pulled back in a barrette and those soft green eyes staring at him, she looked like a princess.

And then she stuck out her foot and Jaskier was reminded she was wearing combat boots. They both giggled. “I love it,” he said.

“I should probably try on other stuff, huh?” Ciri gazed at the other clothes on the racks.

“Probably.” 

She twirled the skirt back and forth a little, admiring the way it flung out. “But you like it?”

He held his arms out and she rushed forward, snuggling against him. Every single time she did that, it made his heart swell so much it almost hurt. “I love it, truly. But agreed, we should be practical, have you try other things on.”

Ciri snorted and he couldn’t believe how much she sounded like Geralt. “Okay. I’ll put it aside though. I really do like it.”

Jaskier leaned in to whisper, “Definitely wear the boots with it, though.”

After about a hour of trying on outfits, they were stuck between two: the green dress, and a pair of flared suit trousers with an adorable belted jacket in a deep plum. 

Ciri flopped down in the chair beside him. “I’m stuck.”

Now was apparently the right time. He took a deep breath and dug into his jacket for the box safely stashed there. “I might be able to help.” Jaskier got up from his chair and came to kneel in front of her, the box held out. “This is for you.”

Confusion warred with pleased surprise on her feature. “What is it?”

Jaskier nudged her knee with his elbow. “Open it and find out.”

When Ciri pulled back the lid, she gasped. Nestled inside was a silver charm bracelet bearing three charms.

A sparrow, a wolf, and a violin. The sparrow had emerald chips for eyes, the wolf’s were little pieces of topaz, and set in the middle of the violin was a small sapphire.

“I figured we’d start you with these, and then you can get more on holidays and birthdays,” he said softly. “But I wanted you to have this. To know how special you are to me.” Jaskier brushed her hair back from her face and watched tears well in her eyes. “I love you, little sparrow. You and your dad are the most important people to me and I love you both so much.”

Ciri sniffled, touched the bracelet with a hesitant finger. “Can I wear it now?” He nodded and she held out her wrist while he did the clasp. It tinkled softly when she moved. “I love it.”

Hope swelled in his chest. “Yeah?”

“Yes!” And then she was in his arms and they were both on the floor laughing and crying. Which is exactly where the shopkeeper found them moments later. 

“We’ll take those two,” Jaskier said with a soggy grin, pointing at the dress and the suit.

* * *

**_Two months later_ **

The garden buzzed with chatter from guests swathed in bright spring colors and dappled with greys and blacks. There were no proper seating arrangements or hierarchy - everyone sat with loved one or friends, admiring the flowers they chosen to wear pinned to their clothes or tucked in their hair or beards.

In the soft late morning light that filtered through the canopy of wisteria trees overhead, Vesemir waited for the guests to settle. It didn’t take much more than a look from the stern old man for chatter to die down.

“All right, everyone, get comfortable. This is going to be the quickest wedding ever, since neither one of them stand much on ceremony.” That drew several knowing chuckles and even Vesemir cracked a smile. “Let me go check on our boys, so no one wander off.”

When Vesemir ducked into the greenhouse lobby just across the way, he found Jaskier and Geralt snuggled together on a bench, talking softly to Ciri who was seated between them. Ever the stoic father figure, he cleared his throat to get their attention. 

It certainly wasn’t to swallow a rush of emotions.

He gave them the once over - Jaskier and Geralt in those suits from the gala, with the addition of a bright blue vest for Jaskier, and Ciri in her green dress and combat boots. When they all looked his way with pleased smiles, he snapped a picture on his phone. “Couldn’t help it,” he said softly, making Jaskier chuckle.

“Old Wolf’s not big on emotions,” Geralt said. “But I think we might actually see him cry today.”

“Please,” Vesemir scoffed, but he gave Ciri a wink. “Anyways, if you’re ready I’m sure the others have gotten everyone seated and some pictures taken before we begin.”

Jaskier turned to Ciri. “You remember where you go, sparrow?”

She nodded. “Beside Vesemir, with the dogs so I can keep them still.”

He kissed her cheek. “I don’t know why I even asked. Of course you remembered.”

She laughed and they stood. Vesemir held his hand out to her and they walked off, leaving Geralt and Jaskier alone for a few moments.

Jaskier squeezed Geralt’s hands. “Ready?”

“Absolutely.” Geralt bumped their foreheads together and closed his eyes. Sharing space, sharing breath. “Shortest wedding ever.”

Jaskier nodded. “Shortest wedding ever. It’s the party that’s important.” He brushed his lips over Geralt’s. “Gives us a chance to sneak away into the maze, too.”

He got a chuckle out of that. “You have been thinking about that since Vesemir told us about this place.”

“Like I’m not going to take every chance I get to fondle my  _ husband _ .”

“You two ready?”

They looked up to see Raf, Eskel, and Lambert at the doorway, knowing grins on their faces.

The experience of walking out and seeing everyone they loved there to experience their wedding was almost overwhelming. Every single person wore flowers of their own choosing. People brought kids and wives and husbands and best friends. Marskeen and Aiden were together at the side and waved, and beside them was Denezza and Tybalt.

Lucinda was with her husband and their children on the other side, seated between some of Jaskier’s old friends from Oxenfurt and Geralt’s people from the shop. Every single person from Wolfshead Productions was in the seats, too; even the volunteers. And Geralt couldn’t help but grin at Coen snuggled up next to Adela.

Vesemir stood with Ciri at his side, and she had the dogs’ leashes in hand. Dandi and Daisy were decked out in flower crowns that would last about five minutes (and it looked like Daisy had already been chomping on something, given the leaves at her feet). Raf, Eskel, and Lambert flanked them, suited up and looking so happy.

Love was in the air, perfumed by the heady scents of spring.

It was, actually, the quickest wedding ever. Jaskier and Geralt were not interested in tradition or formality. They already had rings. Vows felt performative to them both. But what they did want to do was include Ciri. She had the charm bracelet from Jaskier and Geralt’s dog tags, but they felt she needed something to represent them as a family.

So when Vesemir simply asked them both if they wished to be wed to each other, and love for eternity, they said, “I do,” without a single tear. They both knew those were being saved for what came next.

“So before you all burst into applause and start demanding the boys kiss for your pictures,” Vesemir said with a smile, “we’ve got one more thing.”

He stepped out of the way so Jaskier and Geralt could pull a surprised Ciri between them. There were a few stifled sobs from the crowd and Jaskier knew he and Geralt had about a minute before they started crying as well.

“This is for you, sparrow,” Geralt said Lambert handed him a little pouch. “We wanted you to have something special today.”

Ciri swallowed hard and looked at Jaskier, then Geralt. “Can I -“ The bracelet on her arm sparkled in the sun as they helped her open the pouch.

When she pulled out the orb, the entire crowd gasped. On a small copper pedestal sat a smaller version of the Pale Blue Dot. “One of a kind, just like our girl,” Jaskier said, nearly unable to get the words out around his tears. He pointed to the swirls of emerald and amber inside the orb.

No explanation was needed.

Ciri held the orb up in the sun and they watched the colors dance around the garden. 

* * *

**_Hours later_ **

Home.

They were home. 

Jaskier and Geralt gave Raf, Eskel, and Lambert one more round of hugs before they separated at their driveways. Those three looked as exhausted as Jaskier and Geralt felt, but it was a happy exhaustion. 

Geralt got Ciri out of the car and inside while Jaskier fed the dogs and then watched them turn sleepy circles in their beds in the living room.

He was leaning heavily against the wall, watching those two giant dogs curl up against one another and begin to snore.

“Charming,” Geralt said softly as he wrapped an arm around Jaskier’s waist.

“Is Dandi’s snoring louder now? I can’t tell.”

Geralt shrugged. “Could be. Could also be we’re tired and everything is too loud.”

Jaskier hummed in agreement. “Ciri’s okay?”

“Yeah. Completely beat. She’ll probably sleep until noon tomorrow. Like we should.”

Jaskier snuggled into his husband’s embrace, tipping his head up. “That sounds like a very good plan. Sleep the morning away, then brunch.”

“Pancakes?”

“Absolutely.”

Geralt kissed him softly, sweetly, and Jaskier melted in his arms.

It was perfect, because it was home.


End file.
